Mission: Roanapur
by BLAKKSTONE
Summary: The Punisher comes to Roanapur to do what he does: Punish the guilty. Can the world's most lethal vigilante survive the world's most corrupt city on his own?  ALTERNATE UNIVERSE.  COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's notes: A few things must be stated**.

BLACK LAGOON fans:

-I've read the mangas until and including "El Baile de la Muerte". There will be no spoilers in this fanfic. No references to any storyline except some hints at how "Rock" ended up in Roanapur. So, no need to ask: "Does this take place between this and that story arc?".

-There will be character death.

-This is an Alternate Universe crossover fanfic. If things get shaken up, remember that.

PUNISHER fans:

-This version of the Punisher will be similar to the MAX version, which means: no superpowers or super tech.

To all readers:

-I wrote this to be accessible by all readers: those who know Punisher, those who know Black Lagoon, those who know both and those who know neither.

-Some characters are introduced early on and are not yet revealed. They are not Original Characters. There are no Original Characters of great importance in this fic.

-Reviews are welcome. Good or bad, be constructive.

**Roanapur, Thailand**

**Mid-late 1990s**

**Daytime, Mid-day**

**PROLOGUE 1 **

Rokuro Okajima was curious.

He was aboard the Black Lagoon. A boat. An 80-foot war era Patrol Torpedo boat. He was looking at the passenger holding the cargo. It seemed the size and shape of a framed painting. Both were in a cabin below deck. The man wouldn't speak, wouldn't answer any of Okajima's questions. He stood there, holding his package, not moving. Busy being mysterious.

"Well," Okajima said, still trying to be friendly, "I'll see you later, then."

Still no answer. Okajima went up on deck.

"Fuckin' Christ Almighty, this is fuckin' boring me outta my fuckin' mind," a harsh voice said.

He looked over at his comrade. Revy. She looked like she always looked: dark tank-top, cut-off jeans, tribal tattoos covering her right arm. Twin 9mm stainless steel Berettas in a customized shoulder rig. She always wore those items, along with a constant angry scowl on her young-20 something-Chinese-American features. She has more than attitude. She has uncanny skill with those guns. That got her the nickname "Two Hands". She was just as good with one hand or the other or both at once. Rock saw it many times. Rock has also seen Revy smile while shooting, which was even more troubling...at first.

Funny how he got used to what he once considered immoral...

"What I wouldn't fuckin' give for some action right about now," Revy added.

"That's your opinion, 'Two Hands'. To me a day without a gunfight is a pretty good one," a male voice answered.

Benny. Mild mannered computer expert and hacker. White man, also in his 20s. Bright Hawaiian shirt, khaki pants, long blond hair tied in a ponytail. Small glasses. Despite his look, Rock knew Benny to be very jaded. Disillusioned. Revy let out an annoyed sigh.

"Yeah, well, that's you, Benny," Revy said, "I mean, delivering paintings, not my idea of fun."

"Well, now, Revy," a based filled baritone said, "in this city, pretty sure you'll run into trouble by sundown. This is Roanapur. You'll be up to your eyeballs in chaos and bloodshed in no time."

The skipper of the boat, the leader of this motley crew, the man who'd just spoken was simply named Dutch. Large, broad shouldered Black man. American, like Benny and Revy. Older, maybe late 30 or early 40s. Bald. Goatee. Small round shades. Flak jacket. Army pants. A hard man. One who has seen much death. And dealt it. But, always level headed.

Dutch was right about Roanapur. It was ruled by gangsters and corrupt police. This was a completely lawless town. Except for the law of the jungle.

"Besides," Dutch went on, "we are couriers. This is what we do, deliverin' stuff."

"Still fuckin' boring," Revy went on.

"So, Rock," Benny said, "Anything from Mister Congeniality down there?"

"Rock." The nickname Rokuro Okajima had gotten used to. Once a modest salary man from Japan, after series of complicated events, he ended up as hostage of this group. He then joined the group when he realized he nothing waiting from his back home. Like Revy, he was in his 20s, but felt much older. The things he'd seen since he joined the Lagoon crew. He spoke several languages and found out he was skilled as a negotiator. The crew found him useful, that's why they kept him. He seemed meek: he wasn't very tall, slender, always dressed in a short sleeved white shirt and black pants, but he's learned to adapt to his environment. A very hostile and corrupt environment.

"Nothing," Rock said. "Won't say a word."

"Amazing," Revy said, "Somebody Rock isn't able to annoy. Miracles do exist."

"When we reach destination, who knows, maybe the client will tell us," Dutch said.

"Who gives a shit, it's only a painting," Revy said. "Only Rock would care about some shit like that."

"You're not curious? Not even a little?" Rock asked.

"I'm only curious to see who many shooters of Jack our fee will buy me," Revy said.

"Here we go," Benny said, "There's Chang's boat."

"Holy shit, that's a big fuckin' boat," Revy said.

Revy's colourful description was right. It was a luxury cruise ship, most likely converted into a floating casino and brothel. Open 24 hours.

A ladder was rolled down as the Lagoon crew climbed aboard. So did the mystery man with the mystery painting. Dutch anchored the boat and closed the climb. There were many comings and goings on the deck, from drunken gamblers to serious looking Chinese henchmen wearing submachine guns over dark suits. The police wasn't much of a problem in these parts.

"Lagoon traders!" A voice said cheerfully, "Welcome aboard the _Palace of Heavenly Purity_!"

A tall, dapper, sunglasses wearing, slender, handsome, 30 something Chinese man came to meet them. Rock recognized him instantly. Chang. The leader of the Roanapur branch of the Triad. He seemed like an easy going kind of guy. He was also a brilliant business man and a ruthless gangster. And, on occasion, Rock knew, a hard-boiled killer.

"Hey, Chang," Dutch said, "What did you call this ship?"

"_The Palace of Heavenly Purity_," Benny said. "In China's Forbidden City, built in the 1400s, it was a large building where important meetings were held, along with really big banquets."

"Exactly," Chang said with a satisfied smile.

"Fuckin' nerd," Revy said, elbowing Benny in his side.

"Pretty impressive, Benny-Boy," Dutch said.

"Knowledge is power, guys. Is this a Sovereign class?" Benny asked.

"Right again," Chang said, "Almost 900 feet long, 12 decks, it can hold almost three thousand passengers. I bought this a while ago, it was a bargain."

"Nothing pure or heavenly happenin' on this tub," Revy said.

"So cynical, as always, Revy," Chang said, still smiling. Chang then saw the mystery man, with the mystery painting. A few words were exchanged. Rock recognized Cantonese. Then: "Come on, I'll take you the conference room, you can cool off and have a couple drinks, on me."

"Best idea I heard all day, Chang," Revy said.

Minutes later, they were all in the conference room, everyone, but the silent stranger having a beer in hand. Chang gave Dutch the fee for transporting the man and the piece of art. Then, Chang unveiled it.

"Ah. Perfect," Chang said.

"So," Revy asked, "What's the deal with this painting?"

"Chu here is an art thief," Chang said, "And I'd asked him to bring me this."

It was brightly colored. It showed a large fire and two people escaping from it. Chang hung it on a wall.

"_The Destruction Of Sodom And Gomorrah_," Benny said.

"Once more, well guessed, Benny," Chang said.

"You on fire, Benny-Boy," Dutch said, "A walking encyclopedia."

"Yeah, you tryin' to qualify for Jeopardy or somethin'?" Revy said.

"Nah. More of a Wheel of Fortune guy. Always did find Vanna White pretty hot," Benny said.

"So I guess that it represents God's wrath released upon a city of corruption and vice," Rock said.

"Yeah, well, God would have his work cut out for him in _this_ city," Revy said, "He'd get his ass kicked."

"Yeah, he probably would," Chang said.

"Why'd you want this painting?" Rock asked.

Chang's mood was bit more sullen, Rock noticed: "Well," Chang said, "The good people in Sodom and Gomorrah though they could do whatever they wanted and to hell with the consequences. Sooner or later, they got theirs all right. Total destruction. God did give them a warning before, though. He asked them to find ten righteous people in the city before he decided to destroy it. They couldn't. So the entire city burned. Divine punishment."

There was a silence in the room. Rock knew that Chang loved irony. Having a piece of art showing the destruction of an evil city aboard a floating brothel called _The Palace Of Heavenly Purity _was amusing him, in a twisted way. Rock also knew that Chang had no illusion about what he was and how he would meet his end. Maybe that was why his mood changed when he described the painting.

"So anyway, enough about the art," Chang said, "More drinks, you wanna take a tour of the ship?"

"Why the fuck not?" Revy said. "If I can't kill anybody, might as well get drunk."

"Good plan, Revy," Dutch said.

Everyone left the room. Rock looked back at the painting. A strange feeling came over him. The destruction of a city of vice. Few survivors. Someone looked back and was turned into salt.

Rock shook his head. And walked out. It was just a painting, he told himself, it had no meaning...

No meaning at all.

**Evening in Roanapur**

**The Yellow Flag**

Rock was sipping on a glass of Bacardi Rum at the bar.

Benny once called this place "our favourite shit-hole", Rock remembered. Accurate description. The place always smelled of tobacco, sweat and marijuana. Poker games, loud conversations, thugs bragging about how bad-ass they were, that was all routine in the Yellow Flag. In a city like Roanapur, the Yellow Flag was like a saloon in the old westerns. Brawls, knife fights and gunfights were not rare. In the time Rock's been in Roanapur, he's seen this place blown up, burned down and riddled with bullets several times. Bao, the tireless owner, kept rebuilding it.

But Rock's thoughts were lost in the recent past. Chang's boat and that painting...

"Hey, Rock," Revy said, "You're sittin' there all brooding and shit. The fuck is the matter now?"

"Yeah," Benny said, "Almost 24 hours, we haven't been shot at. That's enough to make me happy for today."

"Easy job, easy money," Dutch said, "Happens as often as Christmas. That's a reason to celebrate."

"Wait a minute, I think I know what's crawled up your ass," Revy said, "It's that fuckin' painting, ain't it? _The Burning of Sodomy and Gonorrhoea_ or whatever the fuck it's called! "

"How did you know?", Rock asked.

"Please, Rock, I know that sad-ass look anywhere. I'm beginning to know you," Revy said. "Despite your time here, you're never gonna wipe that sentimental-bullshit-right-and-wrong philosophical crap outta your brain! I don't need to be Oprah Fuckin' Winfrey to figure out what you're thinkin'! Let's see: city of sin gets destroyed, Roanapur is a fucking cesspool packed with all sorts of fuckin' freaks and degenerates, matter of time before we all get ours, right? Fuck that shit! You believe that, you might as well start believing that Santa Claus is fucking the Easter Bunny in Never Never Land."

"That...is a weird fuckin' picture," Benny said.

"Revy's got a point, Rock," Dutch said, "Good guys, bad guys, that's nice in Hollywood movies and comic books. Truth is, we're all grey. Good people get fucked over, bad people get fucked over. Ain't no rhyme or reason to it, man. Life's a bitch, death's a motherfucker. Ain't no changin' that."

"Why would Chang want something like that?" Rock asked.

"Who knows," Dutch said, "Maybe it's good for a laugh to him. Maybe it's just a nice piece of art?"

"Yeah," Rock said, "I kinda-"

"You Lagoon motherfuckers! It's time to fuckin' die," someone bellowed from the entrance.

"The fuck?" Benny asked, "Who-"

Then, fully automatic weapon thundered in the bar.

"Holy fuckin' shit," Revy said, leaping over the counter, shortly followed by other comrades.

"Like I was asking, who the fuck are these assholes?", Benny shouted, trying to be heard over the sound of gunfire.

Bao ducked behind the bar: "Fuck me, not again! Revy!"

"Don't blame me for this shit," she said, as bullets shattered bottles of liquor above their heads, showering them in booze and glass, "I don't even know who the fuck these guys are!"

She pulled her customized Berettas out of their holsters. They were fitted, as usual, with 20 round mags.

"I think they may be buddies with those pirates we had a run in with last month," Dutch said.

"What did they call themselves?" Rock asked," Wait...Yeah, the Captain Morgans!"

"What? Those cocksuckers? With the faggy shirts?", Revy said, "They tried to hijack us during a run! We were fucking defending ourselves! They fuckin' tried to rob us, for fuck's sakes!"

"Didn't say it made sense, Revy!"

Bao was beyond consolation. Still, he grabbed a 12 gauge pump action shotgun underneath his bar and jacked a round in the chamber: "Why me? Why me?"

"Just lucky, I guess, Bao," Revy said with an evil smile. "Dutch!"

Dutch pulled out his big, shiny .44 magnum Smith and Wesson revolver, and shouted: "Now!"

Dutch rose from behind the bar, fired almost blindly at the opposition.

Rock risked a peek.

There were seven of them with AK-47s equipped with Banana-Clips and drum magazines. Rock knew that each of them had between 60 and 80 rounds of 7,62mms before having to reload.

They had more manpower and more firepower.

They were screwed.

One of Dutch's .44s hit the nearest one, center of mass, blowing a fist sized chunk out his back. He went down.

Most of the other patrons had left. Whoever hadn't been fast enough got killed, as it was often the case.

Revy leaped over the counter. She fired two double taps to the shooter closer to her, two from each pistol, before her feet touched the ground. As soon as she landed, she ducked and dove sideways and three times from each pistol to another pirate in rapid succession, almost making it sound like a submachine gun, instead of two pistols. Her first victim fell as the second one took six slugs in the chest. Before that one fell, Revy was already on the move.

Rock never ceased to be in awe. It was like watching a jungle cat take down her prey. Revy seemed to dance around the enemy's fire.

And she never stopped smiling as she effortlessly killed those guys.

"Hey, Bao," Benny said, "Look at that!"

"What now?" Bao said risking a look. "Hm. Damage isn't bad actually. Hopefully those guys don't have hand grenades."

Rock ignored the chatter and watched Revy somersault over a table, land, roll on her sides while unleashing the power of what she called her Cutlass specials. Two more of the Captain Morgans got kneecapped and collapsed to the ground, their legs torn to shreds.

The last two attackers tried to get a bead on Revy, but her speed and their lack of skill, and maybe nerves, made them miss.

Revy got to her feet, ran towards her prey, took a step on a chair, got on a table top and soon was airborne. She twisted in the air over their heads, back flipped, yelled:

"Death from above, fuckwads!"

And gave them each a headshot that shattered their skulls, while she was above them. They dropped and she landed on her feet, gracefully.

Five dead. Two crippled.

"And that is fuckin' that!" Revy declared holding her smoking pistols.

The other members of the Lagoon company walked over to the crippled men. They were rolling around, moaning in pain.

"What the fuck is your problem, huh?" Revy asked the fallen men.

"Yeah, what did you have to fuck up a perfectly good drinking binge?", Dutch asked.

One of them tried to speak through the pain: "You...you killed our guys...We...had to..."

"Fuckin' retard: the fuck were we supposed to do, let you dipshits steal our cargo and kill us?", Revy said.

"We're...new to...the city," the wounded pirate said, "Need to...build...a rep..."

"Really, how's that working out for ya?". She paused and let out a small chuckle and lowered her guns. "New in town, huh. Then, welcome to Roanapur, assholes. Enjoy your fuckin' stay."

And she gave them each a headshot.

"Man," Benny said, "Captain Morgans. Jesus. Complete with Puffy shirts and high boots, look at that. Think they took the pirate thing a bit too literally?"

"Looks that way, Benny Boy. What did I tell ya, Revy?" Dutch said, "There's your gunfight."

"That doesn't even count," Revy replied, "These fuckin' guys, man..."

Bao came from behind the counter: "You guys managed not to set fire to the place or flatten it! Mircales do happen!"

"Guess so," Dutch said.

"I'm ready to go home," Rock said, running his face with both hands.

"Amen to that," Dutch said.

They said their goodbyes to Bao and soon, Benny was driving his fellow mercs back home in his Pontiac GTO.

The adrenaline rush from the firefight dropped and Rock's mind started wandering back to Chang's painting. Maybe he was making something out of nothing. Maybe not. He needed to sleep, he knew that much. This had been a long day.

Sleep. Tomorrow would come soon enough.


	2. Chapter 2

_**I forgot the disclaimers in the earlier entry.**_

_**Punisher**__** belongs to Disney/Marvel.**_

_**Black Lagoon**__** belongs to Rei Hiroe, Shogakukan Inc and Viz Media. **_

_**I want no money for this. Only reviews.**_

**PROLOGUE 2**

**Headquarters of the International Criminal Police Organization (INTERPOL)**

**Lyon, France**

**8:00 AM, Local time, two days later**

In a dark conference room, there were two men. Both were sitting, but one was showing a slide show on a large screen. The man in charge of the slide show was also a high ranking member of INTERPOL. He started speaking, in English, with only a slight French accent:

"Thank you for coming." He paused. The other man nodded. The INTERPOL agent clicked a button. A map appeared on the screen.

"That is the target area. The city of Roanapur in Thailand. A harbour town. Quite possibly the most corrupted city in the world. Home to all manner of fugitives, killers and murderers. But there are also normal people, civilians, who live there and who try to make a decent living. That city is the home of many of the most wanted criminals on our lists. The police there is a joke. They do absolutely nothing in the way of serious crime fighting. The reason the city is not in complete chaos in because there is a sort of pact, a cease fire, if you will, between the many criminal organizations. Though each faction has a small army among their ranks, they all share territories and none of them have any restrictions when it comes to making money. Drugs, human trafficking. Anything to maintain their power and wealth. They bribe and blackmail whoever they can't murder."

The INTERPOL agent took a second to repress the frustration and bitterness. He exhaled and went on.

"There are four prominent criminal syndicates in that city."

The slide changed to show the face of a man who has smooth features and blond hair. He was wearing a cocky smile on his clean shaven face.

"This," the man from INTERPOL said, "is the head of the Italian mafia. He has a few aliases but is mainly known as Ronny The Jaws. Vicious and ambitious. Relatively level headed. Unlike his second-in-command."

The screen showed a darker man, with darker hair, no facial hair, but harder features.

"Tomazo. He does or dispatches the dirty work. Short tempered, violent. A dangerous customer."

The next set of pictures showed several gentlemen of South American origin. There was a diagram. A picture was on top-the leader, a man in his 40s with a thin moustache and slick hair- with lines branching out to a few other men.

"This is the Roanapur chapter of the Manisarera Columbian cartel. The leader is a man called Abrego. He is cold-blooded and cunning. Not prone to excessive violence, but doesn't shy away from it either. His lieutenants are Gustavo and José. Loyal henchmen."

The screen then showed an Asian man. Handsome, smiling, wearing nice clothes and designer shades. Another man was next to him.

"This is Chang," the INTERPOL man said, "Don't let his movie star looks fool you: he'll put a bullet in your head as easily as he'd offer you a cigarette. He represents the Triads. Brillant. Ruthless. A keen strategic mind. From what we've heard, he's the moderate one among the...pillars of Roanapur. The long haired fellow next to him is Biu. He's right hand man."

Then another slide. A woman, approaching 40. Blonde. Blue eyes. Slavic features. She was wearing a burgundy business suit. She might have been attractive, if it weren't for the large section of her face that was burned. And next to her was a large, broad shouldered man with a scar making a diagonal across his hard features.

"Last, but not least: Balalaika. That's the name we have for her. Former Russian Special Forces."

"Spetsnaz," the other man said.

"Yes. She was part of the unpleasantness in Afghanistan. She's a very hard woman. When the Wall came down, she became a soldier without a country. She-along with dozens, maybe hundreds of former comrades-joined the Russian Mafia. She's now in charge of Hotel Moscow in Roanapur. The local branch of the Russian Syndicate. We've heard many adjectives about this one. Ruthless. Insane. War crazy. Her small army of veterans are fanatically loyal to her. Trained fanatics. Battle tested warriors, all of them. Like the man next to her. Boris. Her second-in-command. Probably the biggest of the syndicates. Probably the most dangerous of them all."

The slide show stopped. The INTERPOL agent stood and turned on the lights.

"There is more information," he said, "Freelancers. Wild cards. Like the Lagoon trading company."

"Lagoon?"

"Yes. Couriers. Mercenaries. We don't know exactly where their loyalties lie. But, they seem to be involved in many of the shady events. We will give it all to you on a CD-ROM. But those four groups are your primary targets. Also, the Church of Violence."

"They deal in weapons and intelligence. Run by this older nun, Yolanda? They operate out of an actual church... A younger nun works there. A real gunslinger. We know about them."

"So I see."

"Okay. So...what do you want from my people?"

"ICPO's charts limit us in the actions we can undertake. And we certainly don't have some of the...resources you and your people have. Those groups have made the city of Roanapur a no man's land of filth and crime. We can't touch them. Local governments turn a blind eye to what's going on there. But, if it were possible to...reduce the level of difficulty to facilitate-"

"Cut the crap. You want my agency to go in there and do the dirty work, in the spirit of...'interagency collaboration' or some shit, right? That much I figured out. Just tell me exactly what you want from me."

"Hard intelligence to take these people to justice. Most of what we have is hearsay and speculation. Or, worse comes to worse: termination, with extreme prejudice."

The ICPO agent's voice and face hardened when he spoke those words. The other man nodded.

"All right," said the man facing the ICPO member, "All right. Of course, if we get caught or killed, it's ours asses. That about sums it up?"

"That is accurate."

"Uh-huh. Now, we're being clear. Good. Now, I'll be clear. Your people will owe my people big time. Big fucking time. Not money, we ain't mercs. But..."

"We understand."

"I'll need a week, maybe two, to get a team to do this job. And brief them."

"Of course. We understand that as well."

"Swell. Black bag borderline suicide mission with no official back up."

The ICPO man handed a CD-ROM to the other man. The latter one took the disk, smiled and let out a wry chuckle.

"Heh. This should be loads of fun."


	3. Chapter 3

**Roanapur**

**Two days later**

**1:00 am**

**Goof Fest Club**

In a city like Roanapur, being the owner of one the sleaziest businesses in the city was no small accomplishment. Rowan "Jackpot" Pigeon knew that. His business was flesh and business was booming.

The GoofFest club was a strip club, but Rowan also dealt in prostitutes of all kinds and for all tastes, porn movies of all kinds and for all tastes. There were some sick-ass motherfuckers that needed to get off, if it was by straight porn, gay porn, kiddie porn, snuff porn, donkey porn, so be it. Business was business.

A black man in his early 40s, he sported a large afro and always wore flashy clothes, 70's style flashy. He looked like a throwback to blaxpoitation movies, but he didn't give a shit, it was his style and he liked it.

What he liked even more was money. He was in his office, along with three of his henchmen, heavy hitters, not accountants, but putting stacks of bills in machines that counted them wasn't difficult work. And besides-

A resounding explosion shook his office and possibly the entire club. It blew in the steel back door off its hinges. It set off fire alarms. "What the fuck?" Rowan shouted a second or two later.

One of the henchmen pulled out a 9mm Glock 17. The other two had 9mm Sig Saur pistols. The man with the Glock said: "We'll deal with it boss!"

"Go check that shit out," Rowan said, his ears ringing, the smoke from the back hallways was beginning to get in his office and he was beginning to cough. His eyes were watering. "Who the fuck would-"

Then he heard three booming sounds. Unmistakable sound of a shotgun. Holy shit. This was really happening, someone was coming. He pulled a small nickel plated .380 automatic from one of his desk drawers and got up and headed for the door.

Something hit in the face very hard. Hard enough to smash his nose and he went down, flat on his back. More tears, coughing and pain. And he was dizzy, but not unconscious yet. His eyes were closed, but he heard footsteps in the hallway. His guys from the front of the club, running to take care off-

More booms. Close. Like automatic fire. It sounded like the end of the world and made his ears ring more. Then nothing. The silence was even worse. It mean Rowan lost all seven of his boys. That wasn't good at all.

He heard footsteps. Slow, steady, assured.

"Rowan Pigeon."

That voice. Cold. As cold as a grave. Unfamiliar. But American English. That much he was sure of.

"What...who...?"

"Open your eyes."

Through the tears and the pain, Rowan did. The fire alarm was still blaring. He opened his eyes. Through the smoke and dust, he saw large silhouette, in a long trenchcoat, holding a huge assault rifle. Large white man. Cold blue eyes. Hard features. Rowan tried to-

The he saw it. The shirt. The white skull on the shirt.

"Oh, shit..."

And Rowan let go of his pistol.

"Good. You understand."

"You're that fuckin' lunatic...You're the Punisher."

"Get up."

A strong hand grabbed Rowan by the jacket and yanked him back up to his feet.

"What...where..."

"Find a bag, and pull all your money in it."

"What?"

"If you make me repeat, I'll kill you."

Rowan did as he was told. He knew it. Everybody had a price. Even this guy. Everybody could be bought, especially in this town. This dude liked money like everyone else. He could work with that. He tried:

"Hey, man, we could deal. Maybe-"

"Shut up. Last warning."

Rowan believed it. He put the money he and his men were counting in a big garbage bag. Easily half a million US dollars.

"Let's go" the ice cold voice said.

Soon, they were outside. The street was deserted. But one the sidewalk across the street, he saw some of his girls, most of them actually. The patrons were gone. The girls stayed. They knew. They had nowhere else to go. They waited for Rowan. They figured that the building might be toast, but Rowan would still-

"Now listen: go across the street and give those girls that money."

Rowan didn't dare make him repeat and he did what he was told. The girls stood in an extra second in disbelief and then, left. He came back towards the big killer in black.

"Stop," the psycho said.

Rowan stopped in the middle of the street.

"Now what?" Rowan asked.

"Die."

Then Rowan felt nothing. His head exploded into paste and his corpse dropped to the ground in a boneless heap.

FRANK CASTLE, THE PUNISHER, WITHOUT A LOOK FOR THE HEADLESS FLESH PEDDLER AT HIS FEET, WENT BACK into the club, still holding his USAS-12 automatic shotgun. He wanted to burn the place to the ground, but couldn't risk it. It was connected to other buildings. Castle wanted no collateral damage. He went through the club and went to the back alley, where his van was waiting for him. And he drove off.

First blow in Roanapur. Like everything else in The Punisher's war, it started in New York City.

**Three months earlier**

**Abandoned gas station/car workshop**

**The Bronx**

After weeks of investigating and recon, The Punisher smashed another drug lab. It was a fairly large operation. A dozen workers. Making and packaging the stuff on a table. Mainly topless and unarmed men and women. Just as many to guard the place. He went in, with an M-16, fitted with a 40mm grenade launcher.

Covering the thugs with his rifle, he told the workers to leave.

He turned around, a brief moment, to make sure the "civilians" had left the place.

One the drug dealing punks got ambitious and pulled out his 9mm. The Punisher was a split second faster and drilled him with a single heart shot. The others took advantage, drawing pistols as well. Twelve in all, on opposite sides of the table. They split up. They figured Castle couldn't shoot everywhere at once.

They figured wrong.

Switching the M-16 to his right hand, rifle stock held between his hip and elbow, he pulled out a fully automatic 9mm Glock 18, with a 32 round magazine, with his left hand. In close quarters like these, with that many opponents, Castle didn't worry too much about finesse.

Skill, speed and body armor were on Castle's side. They were typical street level scum, no discipline, burning ammo, holding their guns sideways. Less than a minute later, all twelve were dead.

The vigilante reloaded and went looking for the scum in charge. He found them in an office in the back.

There were three of them, with stacks of VHS tapes in that office. They seemed very concerned about the tapes. They were packing them. The Punisher asked one of them to put a VHS tape in the VCR.

They did.

And The Punisher saw.

Snuff movies. With children.

Frank Castle, a lifetime ago, had been a husband to Maria and a father. He had a daughter. A son. He lost them to mafia violence. Random violence. Shortly after, he became the Punisher. He became a cold, calculating killing machine, not a rage driven psychopath like the media portrayed him. He wanted to eradicate those like the men who'd killed his family.

Cold. No rage.

Until when he saw the movie. Something in the images of those mutilated children triggered memories. He saw, for a split second, the bodies of his children, bloody and broken by assassins' bullets.

Then, his mind played tricks: he saw his own children on the TV screen.

He didn't know if those guys were fans or sellers of these movies. He didn't care. He just wanted to know where they were made.

He fired a shot in the TV screen. Then he shot one of the men in the genitals. The man let out a scream of pure agony and clutched his ravaged manhood.

Another took a bullet in the abdomen. He spat up blood and gurgled, it was a hideous sound. He was in tremendous pain as well. He held his stomach, trying to keeps his guts inside.

It was a stone faced Punisher that aimed his rifle at the third man.

"Where did this movie come from?" He asked, very calmly. Nothing in his demeanour showed anything but ice cold resolve.

Besides the blood and cordite, another stench filled the air. The scum had shat his pants. He was crying. He started begging and pleading.

"Please, I-"

A round destroyed the man's kneecap. The right one. He yelled instantly.

"Where."

The man was gasping, moaning, trying to collect his thoughts.

"This...it...comes...from Roanapur...Please, I-"

Punisher shot the other man's kneecap. Then both his shoulders. Then he walked away. He left the three men to bleed to death or be crippled for life.

Roanapur. Even in his days as a Marine, in the 'Nam, Castle had heard about that city. Seemed to be an Eldorado for deserters and assorted scum. He needed to know more.

He would go to Roanapur. He would take down whoever had made these movies and whoever had profited from them. While he was at it, he would try to bring down the big gangs.

The day after the firefight at the drug lab, Castle called on a former comrade in arms from the war. Since then, he'd entered law enforcement and became a big shot within the Justice Department. They met later in a deserted parking lot. Both had to drive there. The man from Justice was there first. Castle joined him in his car. He was wearing a fake beard and glasses.

"Long time, Frank."

"Yeah."

"Always the chatterbox, huh?"

"Yeah."

"If I'm gonna risk my life and career helping a criminal like yourself, I'd expect some conversation. Wanna try for two syllables?"

"You have that Intel?"

"Better. Sure, I have it. Ask and you shall receive, right? Why did you want info on that shit hole anyway, Frank?"

The man handed Castle a thick file. Castle opened it before answering.

"The name came up during an op last night. Snuff porn."

"I heard about that. Christ...You know, that town, Roanapur, I heard it's not even a nice place to visit. Remember how Saigon was in the old days? That's Disneyland compared to Roanapur."

Castle said nothing.

"You know, I don't know why I don't have more of a problem handing you these files from time to time. I lose no sleep over it. No remorse. It's more than the fact that you took shrapnel for me in the bad old days. Somehow, I just think you're necessary. No way for any kind of cop to talk, but there it is. You can go where I can't. You can do what I can't."

Castle said nothing. He closed the file.

"Thanks," Castle said.

"Wait. Which one of the gangs are you targeting?"

"All of them."

The federal man paused. Castle saw and incredulous expression on his face.

"You can't possible think-"

"This is what I do. They have to pay. All of them."

"For Christ's sakes, Frank, it's suicide! Besides...not all of them made those movies!"

"Someone made them. Someone knew about it and let it happen and maybe even made a profit out of it. They all have to die. They all have to be punished."

"Jesus, Frank...There's no point. You're gonna get killed. You can't possibly win, here. You're gonna throw away your life-"

"I died a long time ago."

The federal agent just looked at him.

"That city is a fortress. The arrogant fucks who are in power in that fortress think no one is crazy enough to challenge them. Somebody has to prove them wrong. I have no illusions, I won't get all of them. But I'm taking some of them with me."

The man from Justice just stared at Castle.

"Thanks for the help," Castle said, "Take care."

The other man sat there, speechless, staring at The Punisher. Without another word, Frank Castle stepped out of the car, went back to his van and drove away.

And that was how the Punisher decided to come to Roanapur. Another comrade fixed him with a plane and fake papers. No customs. Private air-strip. And he was able to fly in with his hardware. He could have bought weapons locally, but he didn't want to raise any flags.

Between the files he received and the three months spent scoping the city out, he was ready. Rowan Piegon was only the beginning.

Punishment had come to Roanapur.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hotel Moscow HQ**

**Later, that morning**

Balalaika was having her tea in her office. She was wearing, as usual, a dark business suit, matching high heeled shoes.

She was looking at a stack of files. Being the head of a criminal empire is much paperwork than being in the trenches of Afghanistan exchanging fire with Mujahedeen rebels. But she had many responsibilities and she took them seriously. Much like a CEO, she had to be on top of everything going on in her organization and beyond. She found it tedious, but she had no choice. Besides, she always liked doing as much as she could herself. She smiled. She valued work, like any good Soviet. Even though the Soviet Union was no more.

Also, her organization had to be strong because she owed her men that much. They all had unflinching loyalty towards her. And they respected her because of her own strength. They had no country. No cause. They only her, their Captain, and Hotel Moscow. They still knew honour, courage and dedication. They would die for her and they knew she would do the same.

There was a knock on her door. It interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes, come in," she said.

It was Boris. Her trustworthy second in command.

"Captain, forgive the intrusion."

"Go ahead, Sergeant."

"I have received most...troubling news by the Chief of Police. Two major incidents."

"I'm listening."

Balalaika took out a cigar out of a small box on her desk, lit it with a Zippo, pulled on it and let out some rings of smoke.

"Last night," Boris started, "Rowan was killed. In the middle of the street in front of his club. Inside the club, seven of his men had been killed."

"Hm. I would be lying I thought it was a shame, but many members of our...community had decent business relations with him."

"The other incident is probably related, Captain."

"Go ahead, Sergeant."

"Ronny The Jaws' and his syndicate have been decimated."

That was enough to give Balalaika pause. Boris was not the melodramatic type. If he said "decimated" that was what he meant.

"I see. I'll miss that stupid wop bastard, and his pack of brain-dead goons, even less than Rowan. However, his demise might be a problem in the big picture. What is disturbing is that both incidents happened last night?"

"Yes, Captain. And The Chief knows who did it."

"Already?"

"He left survivors. Two of them. To tell the tale."

"'He?'" The leader of the Russian syndicate asked.

"Yes. The Punisher."

The boss of Hotel Moscow paused for a moment. The Punisher. Of course, she'd heard the stories. They were almost mythical. But he was very real. He was no fairy tale. And he was in Roanapur. Even if he was but one man, her time in the Spetsnaz and her time in this city taught her never to underestimate the resolve of a soldier who firmly believed in what he was doing. Be it war or revenge. Determined warriors or psychopaths-or both-could do a lot of damage, even against incredible odds. A few unpleasant incidents in the recent past in this very city came to mind, some involving maids and others involving murderous children...

However, she smiled.

"That man's presence will certainly liven things up, will it, Sergeant?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Do we know how he did it?"

"Well, it seems that the Punisher attacked one of the Italian casinos. He destroyed it and killed several henchmen. That was enough to draw Ronny The Jaws out of bed and gather more men. They rushed to the scene. They paid no attention to the parked cars they found on the scene. They blew up. The Punisher came out of cover and finished them off using a machine gun. An M-60. It was a slaughter. The men were dazed by the explosions, they never saw what hit them. In all, well over 30 casualties. Ronny The Jaws last words were vile insults in Italian before he was strafed with 7,62mm rounds. That was what the two survivors told the police. The location looked like a real war zone."

The Lady Boss could almost see it in her mind's eye. She could feel the shockwaves brought by the blasts. She could hear the sounds of war. The screams of agony and panic. The sound of lead tearing into meat and bone. The deafening staccato of machine gun fire. The sound of brass shell casings hitting the ground. The smell of blood, cordite and fear. The taste of war. She allowed herself a smile imagining Ronny The Jaws soiling his pants, trying to be defiant before having his cocky face removed by 7,62mm bullets.

Balalaika couldn't help but admire the Punisher's style as she processed the information. The man had sheer audacity. Guerrilla tactics were not familiar to regular thugs. Even if they were, the man was methodical. He was always outnumbered and outgunned, he had no choice. He understood his enemy and baited him accordingly. So far, his reputation was well deserved.

"We'll go through the business of the day. By tonight, there will probably be a meeting with our Chinese and Columbian colleagues, at least one will be scheduled for later. Have security increased on our operations. We must be ready at all times. Call in reinforcements from the old country as well. This man is not to be taken lightly."

"Understood, Captain."

The boss of the Russian Mafia laughed softly.

"Something good came out of this: I guess I won't have to put up with that idiot's pathetic attempts at wit anymore," she said.

"I guess not, Captain. Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you, Sergeant."

Boris saluted and left.

But it wasn't quite all. Though she became a crime boss, Balalaika still was a soldier. A Soviet soldier. Trained during the Cold War. Trained to fight the "evil imperialist Americans." This Punisher was former military and obviously very skilled. Part of her recognized that Frank Castle was a problem that needed solving. Part of her longed for a confrontation against a worthy adversary. A challenge. The last time such an opportunity presented itself, circumstances made it impossible to test her mettle. Maybe that chance would come this time.

Maybe.

**Later that morning**

**Lagoon company's live-in office (above a small store on a busy street)**

"The entire fuckin' wop syndicate?" Revy shouted as soon as Dutch hung up the phone.

"The boss and his main guys and almost 40 gunmen," Dutch said, "That's according to the Chief. Maybe that's not all of them, but it's enough to hurt them. Bad."

"Fuck me sideways..."Revy said quietly.

Rock didn't say anything. He was lost in thought.

"This...incident will certainly change the city's landscape if only for a short while," Dutch said.

"Guys," Benny said, holding a stack of papers, "I searched and got tons of info on our man of the hour. I thought I'd had to hack some FBI database or something, but there are tons of articles detailing that guy's story on the Information super-highway."

"Don't keep us in suspense, Benny Boy."

Benny cleared his throat. And he started:

"Frank Castle. Born Castiglione. Parents changed the name when they emigrated to New York. Ordinary enough childhood. Nothing special. As a young adult, he wanted to join the priesthood."

"You're shittin' me?" Revy asked.

"I shit thee not," Benny answered. He went on: " That didn't work out. Got married. Maria. Joined the Marines. Did three tours in Vietnam. Medal of honour and a whole bunch of rewards. Somewhere in there, he had a couple of kids. Lisa and Frank Jr. This dude had a serious body count even before Central Park."

"Central Park ?" Revy asked.

"Yeah," Benny said, "A short while after he was done with the war, he took his family out on a picnic. Beautiful sunny day. They all stumbled across some mafia business. Gang war shit. Guns fired in broad daylight. The entire family gets shot. Frank Castle is the only one that survived."

There was a silence in the room. Benny paused and continued:

"He didn't flip out right away. He went to the cops. He positively identified all of the shooters. They all had solid alibis, apparently. So nothing happened. Not even a line-up. The guys weren't even called in for questioning. That's when the Punisher was born. He wiped everybody who was directly responsible for his family's death. He hasn't stopped since. He killed a whole lot of guys. Mobsters. Street gangs. Bikers. Pimps. Pushers. Sex offenders. Serial killers. Even terrorists. He doesn't discriminate."

"Now he's here. Roanapur's a fucking dream destination for a guy like that," Revy remarked, "He must feel like Bill Clinton in a fuckin' whorehouse."

Dutch turned to Rock.

"Rock, you're awfully quiet."

"I'm thinking, Dutch."

"You think too fuckin' much," Revy said.

"Some of us don't think enough," Dutch said, looking straight at Revy, "So, it evens out."

"Fuck you, boss."

Dutch ignored the insult.

"With what just happened with the Italians," Benny said, "The other gangs have to meet up soon and try to-"

"That's it!" Rock said, "That is it!"

"What do you mean?" Dutch said.

"Yeah, what the fuck are you talking about now?" Revy asked.

Rock smiled. He had a plan.


	5. Chapter 5

**Abandoned warehouse**

**Roanapur**

**Mid-day **

Frank Castle set himself up in an old warehouse in something resembling what used to be an industrial district. Isolated. Deserted. Perfect.

He was looking at the files given to him months ago, though he'd read them several times already.

The Italian syndicate was down. If only for a moment. He'd have to capitalize quickly and move on to the next mission objective.

Not Hostel Moscow. Not yet. He'd have to plan that operation very carefully if he wanted to inflict maximum damage to them. They were probably the most challenging of the gangs. Not cowardly thugs used to bullying helpless citizens. Most of them were hardened soldiers, tested in battle. The Triads seemed very tough as well. On top of that, there were also all the mercenaries and assassins, the freelancers that could hunt him down. And the police force.

Nothing new, really.

But it was much more palpable in this city. The corruption. He's caused two violent incidents in the city and had time to leave without a rush, without running across police cruisers.

But after three months, Castle was beginning to understand this particular jungle. There was something that caused him a dilemma. If he survived and successfully removed all the large outfits, what then? The local crime scene would be in such disarray that the following chaos would turn into daily gang wars. Innocent bystanders could be caught in the crossfire.

Like his family, a lifetime ago.

Living under the tyranny of fear was no way to live either for the civilians. And someone had to speak for the countless victims of all these cartels. The dead. The exploited. Like those children in that film.

Maybe The Punisher would remain a while longer if he lived long enough to succeed. This city needed a Punisher more than New York ever could.

Some nights, he dreamed of seeing the kids in the movie dying in his arms in Central Park. Other nights, he saw his own dead kids in the movie. Then he would wake up, his blood full of murder. But, he needed to remain cold. Detached. To maximise efficiency against enemies with superior means. He needed to think about this as an assignment.

Even in a new city, mobsters were mobsters. If it was true that they had some sort of understanding to avoid bloody confrontations, that meant that when something rattled their cage, they would have to meet. All of them.

All of them at one place at the same time.

That would certainly destabilize the city's underground if he could kill them all in one strike. Of course, security would be increased, so he would have to be ready.

But first, he would need to collect Intel.

Cities were different from one country to the other, from continent to the other, but some things never changed: there were always people ready to snitch, ready to crack, whether they were coerced with threats or bribes, someone always talked.

Castle would aim higher than a street guy this time.

**Roanapur City Police Headquarters**

**Early afternoon**

Chief Watsup was in his air conditioned office looking down at files. And he was stressed. The middle aged, slightly heavyset chief of police had to deal with one of the worst problems imaginable for a man in his position: the presence of Frank Castle, the Punisher.

Of course, the Punisher was responsible for murders and all that, but he was rocking the boat in the city.

That was worse.

It was worse because the state of controlled insanity that existed in his city was beneficial to him. He got a piece of everything in this city. He also received generous donations to turn a blind eye to most of the big deals that took place in this city.

Perhaps he was greedy, but he was mainly a realist: there was absolutely no way anyone could fight crime in this city. Not when most people on the planet were not aware of what transpired in Roanapur, not when the Thai government was afraid to make a move while things remained as they were. Stability was the key to prosperity for all involved, including and especially the chief.

But all that was jeopardized because of a lone maniac, armed with heavy artillery and delusions about wiping out the gangs in the city. He wouldn't have taken it seriously until what happened to Ronny The Jaws and Rowan.

No one was taking this man lightly. Watsup personally called the bosses of the other major factions and gave them the bad news in detail. He even told the Lagoon company. Their business profited from the way things were done in the city. And the chief profited from the Lagoon traders from time to time.

So Watsup's agents were actively seeking that psychopath. That man had to be stopped before causing further damage.

Watsup's thoughts were interrupted by a noise coming from his stomach.

Watsup looked at his watch. He missed lunch time. No wonder he was feeling hungry. Besides, stepping out of the station would do him some good. Lunch, a drink, maybe a massage in one of the many fine parlours in the city. Massage parlours were the only places where happy endings were possible in the city. He smiled at his own joke and stepped outside. He was quickly assaulted by the heat. He quickly went to his car. Opened the door, started the engine, the AC and-

Something hit the driver's window.

The noise startled him. He looked. It was a fat man wearing a red beard, sunglasses, a loud shirt, beige shorts and a baseball cap.

An American tourist. Watsup couldn't be bothered with-

The man opened one of the back doors and sat behind the chief. Watsup didn't hide his annoyance. Or his surprise.

"What are you-"

"Shut up."

The dry coldness of the stranger's reply caught him of guard. He hesitated for a second before starting again:

"Do you know-"

"You're sitting on a bomb."

That ended Watsup's sentence midway. Surprise and anger became shock. Did...did he hear right? He had to ask:

"What did you say?"

"There a C-4 charge under your seat. You activated it when you sat down. Move and you die."

Watsup wasn't sure if this man was bluffing. Who was this madman?

"I'm the Punisher," the man said, as if reading the chief's mind.

"Oh...I...uh..."

"Shut up. Listen. I'm new in town, but I know how things work. After what I did, the bosses have to meet soon. When and where?"

"What? I...I am the chief of police...How..."

"Don't waste my time. You're bent. If anything, you probably informed them yourself about current events. If anyone would know, it would be you. When and where."

Watsup's mind was racing. He was trying to find a way out of this nightmare. He then remembered something he read in Castle's file.

"I know about you, Castle. You don't kill civilians. And you don't kill police officers. Even corrupt ones. You're bluffing. You won't break your rules."

"Reach under your seat. Now."

The head of the police department did as he was told. And he felt it. Wires. And a block of something.

"I usually don't kill cops, Watsup. You're right. But in your case, you're barely a cop. You're a parasite. You're scum, like all the rest. I'm willing to make an exception in your case. You believe me now?"

Watsup knew he was trapped. He had to cooperate. There was one problem.

"I don't know about any meeting, Castle. You're right. When these things happen, they all meet somewhere. I usually make sure they are not bothered and have my men redirect traffic. But I've heard nothing so far. It's...It's all I have. You can beat me, torture me...The answer will be the same."

The chief felt shame. He couldn't keep the sound of defeat out of his voice. He was scared. This man will kill him without thinking about it.

"Okay, Watsup. I believe you."

Castle reached under the seat. He did something a second or two. Then he opened his door and stepped out. He closed the door. He motioned the top cop to roll down his window. Castle then pulled out a small remote control.

"The mechanism that triggers the explosion if you move is deactivated. But the bomb is still there. Call any of your cops, have me followed and you die. Nod if you understand."

Watsup nodded.

"I'll be back soon. Have an answer by then," Castle said and walked away. Looking like a tourist.

Watsup exhaled. He was covered in sweat. He was trembling slightly. He was aware of the bomb. He was also aware that Castle was not bluffing. He was everything that Watsup heard he was. And that he would have to watch over his shoulder and wait for the next visit.


	6. Chapter 6

**Three days later**

**Roanapur**

**The docks**

**Midnight**

The Punisher did come back to visit Watsup and that time, the corrupt cop had something: a delivery, involving Hotel Moscow and the Triads. Watsup wasn't sure what. It was supposed to be at a warehouse.

Castle was on top of a neighbouring warehouse, watching the area with his night vision goggles. Everything was in bright green, but he could see it all as if it were daytime.

Soon, from the river, on Castle's left, a boat appeared. Castle could see on board two raggedy looking Asian women.

Castle's blood ran cold.

This was the merchandise. Slaves.

Then, from the other side of the warehouse, on Castle's right, a limo. It went inside the warehouse. From the opposite side, the boar went away and the raggedy women went inside as well.

Castle looked around. No sentries. No parked vehicles. Only rows and rows of containers.

Time to move. He rappelled to the ground. Holding his weapon. An M60, fitted with a .40mm grenade launcher and a 100 round ammo box. He was wearing level IV body armour and extra protection. His trademark white skull was painted on. Modified trauma plates on his forearms, underneath his fatigues.

He stealthily moved and went inside the warehouse. He went in the way the limos had gone in.

It was dark. He moved in closer. He saw the two women, standing there. No one had come out of the limo. He could-

Suddenly, the lights went on.

And the two raggedy women were armed.

One of them with folded knifes. Razor sharp kukris. Attached with small cords. She could throw them and bring them back to her.

Castle knew her name, because she was in the Intel he'd received from his Justice contact.

Shenhua.

The other one had shed her raggedy clothes and Castle recognized her instantly.

Revy. From the Lagoon company.

It was a trap. With two of Roanapur's deadliest killers.

Revy smiled and said: "Trick or treat, motherfucker."

The Punisher rose his M60 fitted with a M203 40mm grenade launcher and fired at his opposition.

The one called Revy dove sideways with incredible speed. So did Shenhua, in the opposite direction. Revy fired her twin Berettas. Two double taps that hit The Punisher's Level IV body armour and missed his head by mere inches as he moved towards a steel beam for cover.

Revy ducked, rolled, fired, dodged Castle's heavy fire.

Meanwhile, Shenhua launched her kukris at The Punisher's head.

Castle used his weapon to block and deflect the twin blades and avoid decapitation. The blades did manage to knock off the '60's magazine box. It crashed loudly to the ground.

No more bullets. But the vigilante was not out of ammo yet.

He fired a 40mm projectile at her. Too close for an explosion, but it her square in the sternum. It knocked her breath out and she fell heavily on the merciless floor. She was motionless. She was out for the moment. He then dropped the machine gun.

"Shit! You fucker!" Revy bellowed.

Revy fired more shots at Castle. He criss-crossed his forearms in front of his face as his arm protection absorbed the rounds. It hurt like hell. He took it. He took it all. His chest took more hits. He absorbed the pain.

"Motherfucker!" Revy shouted in rage and rolled out of sight, her pistols locked in the empty position.

Just as Castle was bending over to pick up the M60, the limo's trunk opened and The Punisher recognized an engine sound.

A chainsaw.

Sawyer The Cleaner. Had to be.

And he saw the small pale woman in black leap out of the trunk with a chainsaw, swinging it like a sword.

The Punisher rolled out of the way and grabbed the fallen Shenhua's knives. He used them to shield himself from another chainsaw strike. The blades blocked the saw's teeth and the chain was no longer moving. He forced the chainsaw to his left. He did so with some difficulty. His arms hurt and this petite woman was stronger than she appeared.

Her eyes. Cold. Dead.

Familiar. He saw eyes like that in the mirror every day.

His foot then shot out heel connected with Sawyer's temple in a thunderous roundhouse kick and she went down, head first. Her forehead hit the ground heavily. If the kick hadn't knocked her out, the fall surely helped.

The Punisher pulled out his .45 Colt 1911, expecting another onslaught and wasn't disappointed. Revy came out of cover and rushed him firing round after round at him with her nines. He ducked, rolled and fired back. Triple tap. She cart wheeled out of his line fire and landed on her feet and didn't let up in her assault.

She had more firepower. Many more shots before running out of ammo. Castle had to find an equalizer. Her skill and speed were uncanny.

The vigilante took cover behind a vertical beam, put his pistol back in its holster and palmed two hand grenades. He put one under his armpit, took out the safety pin from the other one, flicked off the spoon and tossed it at her.

She saw it coming.

"Holy fuck!" she yelled before leaping the other way. It was too late when she saw the other one coming at her from the other side.

She raised her pistols and fired at the small bombs. Once from each pistol. And shot off the fuses. And the grenades fell to the ground. Disassembled.

Castle had to admit it: not many shooters could have done that. He was impressed.

"Ha! Nice try, big man!" Revy taunted, "Come on! Come the fuck on! Fuckin' bring it!"

Castle jumped from cover and fired. At the grenades. Revy had assumed she was the target and had begun to move when Castle opened fire.

The bombs exploded while Revy was in mid air. The blasts were deafening. The double shockwave caught her. She let out a scream as the was thrown further by the blasts and fell on the ground.

Before Castle could check on his prey, a car broke through a wall.

Pontiac GTO. Heading straight for him. The Punisher had time to move out of the way as it spun around. The Punisher emptied out the rest of his magazine at the car as it stopped for a second. The headlights where aimed at him and he couldn't-

The unmistakable BOOM of a shotgun resounded and Castle felt as if he'd been hit in the chest by a rhino. Pain. Wind knocked out of him. He lost his Colt and was blasted back. He had to ignore the pain. Move out of the way.

Castle heard a voice call out:"Revy!" and heard steps rushing towards her.

Another shotgun blast missed, but the following one hit the Punisher in the back.

Castle sucked up the pain. Kept moving. Went back behind a vertical beam. Another blast missed. Another one hit the beam. And another.

A low bass filled voice filled the air.

"You fuck with my crew, Castle, you fuck with me."

And he punctuated that statement with a shotgun blast at the beam.

Dutch. The skipper.

The Punisher had only once ace left. He pushed himself up. He heard Dutch reloading his shotgun. Now or never. He pulled out a knife and came out of hiding and faced Dutch.

"Huh," Dutch said, "How does that line go again? 'Trust a wop to bring a knife to a gunfight.'"

Dutch was about to jack a shell in the chamber. Then he stopped. Yelled out in pain. Dropped the shotgun and fell down. The Punisher was holding only a knife handle.

Ballistic knife. It shot out the blade and it went into Dutch's gut.

The vigilante wasted no time gloating. He got up, took a few steps. Picked up his .45. Reloaded and approached Dutch. The captain of the Black Lagoon was still alive. The knife was between his stomach and kidney. He was bleeding.

There was an eerie silence replacing the sounds of battle of mere seconds ago.

Castle was getting closer to Dutch. He was about to-

"No!"

The outburst was enough to interrupt the Punisher. And he saw Rokuro Okajima stand before him. In front of the barrel of a loaded .45.

"Stop! Enough! There's been enough killing!"

"Opinions vary. Move."

"Just what are you trying to accomplish, here, Mr. Castle? What do you think you'll achieve if you go on doing what you do?"

"Move."

"No. Not until you realize that what you're doing will kill innocent people."

"Excuse me?"

"You know, it's horrible what happened to your family. Anyone remotely human can recognize that. But, say you somehow succeed in your mission here. Then what? You must have researched the city before coming here. Surely you know what will happen if you go on with your carnage here!"

Castle noticed the one named Benny helping Revy and Dutch inside the GTO.

Castle had thought of the consequences of his actions. Okajima went on.

"You're hesitating. You do know. I haven't been here long, Mr. Castle. But let me tell you: I had to...ah... adjust my views about right and wrong. Things aren't so...black and white here. You must have noticed that. This...place...to survive in it, it requires...moral flexibility."

Castle was still holding his gun in the young man's face. This kid was supposed to be a simple salary man. Here he was, succeeding where hordes of armed gunmen have failed: stopping the Punisher. Okajima kept going.

"The gangs are the only reason this city's streets aren't running with even more blood. They are Roanapur's law and order. It's not perfect. It may not even be right. But that's how it is. It's not going to change anytime soon."

They remained in that strange stand-off for a second. Two.

They the walls on his right were destroyed. And a fleet of vehicles were rushing in. Five SUVs and two Jeeps with .50 calibre machine guns mounted on them.

Okajima ran away.

Castle ignored him fired at one of the trucks. A whole clip. Nothing. Bulletproof. Meanwhile, the GTO tore away. The limo tore away as well.

Castle went behind a steel beam. Reloaded his Colt and fired. To no effect.

His odds were not good.

**A few blocks away, in the GTO**

**Heading towards the hospital**

Rock's heart was beating like a machine gun.

Dutch and Revy were both in the backseat. Revy was still unconscious. Benny was behind him, in one of the limos with Shenhua and Sawyer.

"Rock..."Dutch said.

"Save your strength, Dutch, we're going to the hospital."

"I'm okay...it looks worse than it is...I had to say...Good work..."

"Dutch..."

"It was a good plan, Rock...Setting up this fake meeting...Having Revy and Shenhua disguised as helpless slave labour...Having members of the three remaining gangs as back up...And me and Benny...hidden in containers...Clever..."

"Dutch, it didn't..."

"And you stood up to...the Punisher...and saved us...back him off with words...Goddamn, Rock..."

"I wasn't thinking. I had to do something. I...used his sense of decency against him in this plan, I thought I could appeal to it, maybe."

"Heh...Rock...You're finally one of us..."

Rock that Dutch meant he had become fully a Roanapur citizen. For better or for worse.

There was silence as Rock pondered what it meant.

"We're almost at the hospital, Dutch. Hang in there."


	7. Chapter 7

**The warehouse, The docks**

The Punisher was fucked.

No guns. Alone. Seven vehicles. Two mounted with .50 cals. Nowhere to run.

From behind his steel beam, his chances for survival were grim.

He was ready. His soul had died long ago, it was time for his body to follow. He would soon-

One of the warehouse walls exploded. Then another. Then another. There was less than a second between the blasts. The combined sound of the blasts were apocalyptic.

Then, the unmistakable sound of a rocket swishing inside. The lead SUV was destroyed in a fireball and there was nothing more than a flaming carcass.

Then, automatic fire. Not the .50 cals. Assault rifles.

Frank Castle saw silhouettes rushing. Assault rifle stocks against their shoulders, firing full auto bursts at the vehicles. There was one shooter per remaining vehicle for five of them, a pair had targeted another one.

Whoever these people were, they weren't regular thugs: they worked like trained soldiers. Pros. Ammo discipline. Marksmanship. The way they placed themselves. The way they moved. Castle recognized special forces when he saw it.

They all had M4 carbines. And each of them strafed the frames of their respective target. They had some serious armour piercing rounds, because the bullets went through the vehicles doors, engine blocks and body frames like they were wet paper.

For endless seconds, there was only the sound of gunfire string glass and metal, brass raining down on concrete. Then silence. The Punisher saw the windshields covered in blood and viscera. It was over. There at least five guys per vehicle. All dead.

He broke cover. The air was filled with the smell of cordite and burning fuel from the truck that was destroyed by the rocket. Seven figures approached him, backlit by the fire. Five men. Two women. Six of them stopped, one of them kept advancing towards him. A man. He stopped. Pulled something out his pocket. Castle remained still. Waiting for the inevitable outcome.

A cigar. The man chomped off a bit of it, spat it, put it in his mouth, lit it with a Zippo lighter. Castle saw his face more clearly then.

A white man. Around six feet tall. Brown hair. White temples. Stubble. Hard features. And an eye patch.

"You," Castle said, simply said.

"Yup. Me," Nick Fury answered. And smiled.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Fury?"

The one-eyed leader of SHIELD, the UNs international intelligence agency, took a few drags on his cigar. And chuckled.

"You're welcome, Castle."

Another figure walked towards Castle. A woman. White. Tall, muscular, dark red hair, the slightest of Russian accents.

"Nick's right," she said, "Not very grateful, considering we saved your life."

"Natasha Romanova," Castle said, "Black Widow."

"Indeed. Nice night for a massacre, yes?"

"What's your angle, Fury?" Castle asked.

"My angle? Well, that's an interesting story, Castle."

Fury looked at the Punisher for a second.

"You hide it well," said Fury, "But you're hurt. Come back with us at our HQ, we'll tape up those ribs, have a smoke and a drink, and I'll you all about it."

One of the figures behind Fury and Widow spoke, a long haired woman: "Uh, Colonel..."

"Agent, before you advise me against anything, I wanna remind you that this guy has forgotten more about killing gangsters than most of you will ever know. He's been here longer than us as well. He's pretty fucking handy with a gun and we have similar objectives out here. He's comin' with us. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Fury said, "With that said, let's get the fuck outta here. Even in this shit-hole there has to be something like a 911."

**Roanapur Hospital**

**Two hours later**

"Where the fuck is that fuckin' motherfucker! I'll fuckin' make fuckin' swiss cheese out of his fuckin' ass!"

Rock was relieved that Revy was back among the living, with relatively minor wounds for someone was nearly blown to hell with hand grenades. Dutch had lost some blood, but he was out of danger. He was in a separate bed, in the same room. Also with them, Shenhua and Sawyer.

"Easy, Two Hands," Dutch said, "We knew this wouldn't be easy. Besides, you wanted a challenge. You got it, right?"

"I fuckin' want a fuckin' rematch with that cocksucker!"Revy said.

"Aiya!" Shenhua shouted, "You stop yelling now! I have big headache because I hit ground hard and I also have broken rib!"

"Fuck off, Chenglish. I'm not in the mood."

"Stupid whore, my name Shenhua," Shenhua said, "and every time we work with you, me and Sawyer, it never good!"

"Too bad that fuckin' rock star wanna be gigolo looking motherfucker, Lotton, wasn't here, he would have backed you up, huh?" Revy growled.

The mechanical sound of an ultravoice, a speaking device for those who no longer have a larynx, was heard. It was Sawyer.

"He wanted...to be with us... He's home with... two broken ankles... because he messed... up a cool entrance...from the top... of a bus on... another job."

Rock knew that Lotton The Wizard, one of the city's freelancers, was obsessed with being a real cool badass. That obsession was more dangerous for his health than any assassin's bullet.

"Well, well, well," A familiar voice said, "You're all here."

It was Chang, with Biu, he right hand man.

Rock was surprised to see him. "Mr. Chang...It's pretty late."

"I couldn't sleep with what was going on. By the way, I took care of all the medical expenses, don't worry about any of it," Chang said, "I'll even take care of the repairs on your car, Benny."

"Thank you, Mr. Chang," Benny said.

"I could see-and hear-that Revy was getting back to her old self. Dutch, you seem well..."

"Coulda been worse," Dutch admitted, "Why so happy? Is Castle dead?"

"Oh, that? No," Chang said, "Our men are all dead."

"What?" Rock said, "But, how..."

"The cops told me, they were ambushed," Chang said, "Heh. Never a dull moment in this town."

"What? Who?" Rock asked.

"Whoever they were," Chang said, "They knew their business. Armour piercing rounds. No survivors. Another new player. Maybe special forces...Who knows."

"That's fucked up," Revy said, "Maybe Castle brought buddies with him."

"He wouldn't have attacked alone," Dutch said, "This is something else."

"Anyway, it was a good plan," Chang said, "We came very close, thanks to you, Rock. You magnificent bastard. I was surprised when you exposed your plan to me. And you thought it up fairly quickly. Never thought you were so...Machiavellian."

"Thank you, Mr. Chang," Rock said, tentatively accepting the compliment. It was still odd for him to be rewarded for being a bastard. "It came to me when Benny told us his story."

"And you're a damn good negotiator. You asked for half the fee upfront and half if the job was completed. Obviously, you only get half the fee. It is, however, well earned, in my view."

"That's not all, Chang," Dutch said," The only reason Revy and I didn't get smoked back there is that this crazy motherfucker stood up to Castle and talked him down."

Mr. Chang had to pause. "Really?"

"What?" Revy said, "He fuckin' did what?"

"I saw it. Rock backed Punisher long enough for the back up to show up. He saved my ass. And Revy's."

"Impressive, very impressive, Rock," Chang said.

"You should have seen it, Revy," Dutch said, "He jumped right in front of Castle's .45. Never backed down. He didn't even seem scared."

"I was terrified," Rock said, "But, I couldn't just let him kill you guys. I had to do something."

Revy said nothing. Rock thought she had an odd expression on her face and he couldn't quite read it.

"We'll leave you now," Chang said, "We'll stay in touch. Dutch?"

"Chang."

And the triad men left.

There was a silence. Revy still had that weird look. Benny spoke up.

"Boss? What now?"

"We rest. We heal up. And we see what happens next."

Rock knew what Dutch meant.

The Punisher wasn't through with Roanapur just yet.


	8. Chapter 8

**Meanwhile, SHIELD temporary HQ**

**Private air strip hangar, a few miles out of town**

The Punisher's ribs had been taped up. He was offered painkillers. He refused. He wanted his mind clear and unhindered as possible.

Castle had been introduced to the rest of Fury's unit.

There was a blond haired white man. In his 30s. Handsome features, but hard, like any who has seen combat. Over six feet tall, muscular. Clay Quartemain.

There was a middle aged Black man. Around six feet tall. Strong build. White hair, shortly cropped. White goatee. G.W. Bridge.

Another woman, besides Black Widow. White. . Slender. Long curly red hair. Kymberly Taylor.

A man. Black. 30s. Over six feet tall as well. Solid build. Shaved head. Clean shaven. Franklin Rhodes.

Finally, Rick Mason. In his 30s. White. Just under six feet tall. Brown hair. Athletic. He seemed to be the resident "tech guy".

The Punisher had seen them in action. They were serious operatives, no doubt about it. They had various degrees of approval regarding Castle's presence. Widow didn't seem to mind at all. Quartermain, Bridge, Mason and Rhodes seemed all right with it.

Taylor was the most reluctant. She voiced her objections. She just didn't like the idea of a civilian being involved in a top secret operation. A man whose "mental state" was uncertain. A criminal.

"Noted," Fury said, with a rare show of patience. But it was obvious he would give it no further thought.

"Agent Taylor," Widow said, "In the world of Black Ops and wet work, things are not always that cut and dry. In my days in the KGB, I worked with far worse than vigilantes who killed gangsters. Whatever assets you have on a mission, you use. You do what you must. Sometimes, it's because it's what works. Sometimes, it's because you have to follow orders. That's how it is."

"Right. Understood," Taylor said. Everyone could see she was unconvinced.

During the drive, Fury explained the presence of SHIELD operatives in Roanapur. Common criminals were not usually on their list, but sometimes, exceptions were made in the name of interagency collaboration. Several days ago, INTERPOL had asked SHIELD's help in neutralizing certain criminal organizations in this fair city. This was to be a "black bag" op. No paperwork. Nothing official. No official backing. But, no red tape and all the Intel necessary. But, by the time Fury and his team showed up, Castle had already wiped out the Italian syndicate.

They had just gotten a tip about a meeting with two of the remaining big bosses. Like Castle, they realized it was a fake. They showed up after Castle had moved in. They heard the gunfire. They were debating whether or not to intervene. When they saw containers open up and spill out with SUVs, that was when they made their move.

"What happens if the mission succeeds?" Castle asked.

Fury explained. Castle nodded.

"Fair enough," Castle answered.

"Now what," Quartermain asked, "They know about us. They don't who we are, who sent us, but they know."

"Continue as planned," Castle said.

"Which means, what?" Bridge asked.

"Kill them all. Abrego. Chang. Balalaika," Castle said.

Fury chuckled. Widow smiled. They had dealt with the Punisher on previous occasions.

"Oh, is that all," Bridge said.

"Why didn't I think of that?" Quartermain said.

"It's simple," Castle said.

"Just like cleaning up the floor under the fridge is simple. Still have to lift the heavy bastard, right?" Mason said.

"How do we do that exactly? We just got here. We don't quite know the lay of the land yet." Rhodes said

"I do," Castle said.

The others were just looking at him.

"These fucks, they're gangsters," Castle said, "Scum like that wear their power and arrogance like an armour. That's what we can use to end them."

"How," Taylor said. She was still sceptical.

Castle looked at Fury. Fury pulled a few drags on his cigar, then he looked at his team.

"People," Fury said, "Castle usually doesn't work with others. He's willing to do this thing with us. I told you earlier. He knows these fuckers. He got to know this city. He says we can do this thing, it means we can. We knew it would be a fuckin' meat grinder of a mission. But this is an opportunity to get rid of some very nasty bastards. Castle is the expert. You listen to him. You treat him with respect. He's one of us, now. Get it?"

Black Widow rose a Styrofoam cup of water, in a mock-toast, to show her backing of Fury's statement.

Among the rest of the team, there was a delay. After a few seconds, Quartermain nodded his approval first. Then Bridge. Rhodes followed. So did Mason.

All eyes were towards Taylor. She exhaled. And nodded.

Fury turned to Castle. The one-eyed colonel blew out a cloud of cigar smoke.

"Okay, Frank," Fury said, "What do you have in mind?"

And The Punisher explained different scenarios...

**Later that day, Afternoon**

**Roanapur**

Business as usual for Balalaika. With an extra bonus.

Former war criminals from Sierra Leone had decided to set up a drug dealing operation on Hotel Moscow's territory. Without permission. It wasn't long before they were mostly neutralized.

Except for three men. The leaders of this operation. They were tracked down in a dive of a disco club that they owned. They were informed that most of their men had been killed and their merchandise confiscated. However, Balalaika offered them a deal. If they could killer her in hand to hand combat, they could walk out alive and resume business. The half dozen that accompanied her were not going to interfere.

Boris, her loyal Sergeant, objected.

"Captain, there is no need to-"

"Sergeant, if I cannot handle these simpletons, what chance do I have against the likes of Frank Castle?"

"Captain-"

"I order you not to intervene. Understood?"

Balalaika could see the dilemma in Boris' eyes: he couldn't let his Captain come to harm and he couldn't disobey. What to do if the order put his Leader in Jeopardy?

"Understood, Captain."

For the occasion, Balalaika wore her old combat uniform. Work clothes.

She looked at the three muscular men, their eyes full of hate and murder. She knew this kind of man. They had no respect for women. They couldn't stand to be humiliated by a woman.

All three men rushed her at once. Over 600 pounds of murdering, raping muscle coming straight at her.

Balalaika went down in a roll at the one on her right. He lost his balance and fell on the other two and all three men went down in tangled mess.

She wasted no time. She targeted the first man, who was trying to stand by pushing himself up with his hands, and stomped on both his hands. She felt-and heard-the satisfying crunch of breaking bones under her boots. He yelled out and fell on his face.

The other two were standing up and facing her. Balalaika stood. Smiling.

They ran at her again. She sidestepped them like a matador and sent a punch in a solar plexus to the one nearest her and he went down, wind knocked out of him.

The other one took a second to be surprised.

All the time in the world.

She sent a finger strike in the man's larynx, she spun and sent a roundhouse elbow in the same spot. The man fell on his back. She finished the job by stomping on his throat. Again, the crunch of bone and cartilage being crushed. That killed the man.

The other two rolled on the ground. In pain. Gasping for breath.

Balalaika was sweating and panting somewhat.

"I'm getting soft," she said, "This used to be easier."

She then kicked the one trying to catch his breath, hard, above the ear. He went down and stopped moving.

That left the one with the broken hands. He managed to get to his feet.

The leader of Hotel Moscow sent haymaker punch to his head. He raised arms to block it, which left the former Captain to kick the man in the groin. He fell over, groaning in pain, holding his damaged manhood.

Someone applauded. Balalaika turned. And she saw Chang, among her men, applauding.

"Bravo. Impressive."

"Mr. Chang," she said, while Boris handed her a bottle of water and a clean handkerchief, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

"I called earlier. Boris told me you were here."

"I needed the exercise."

"You can't just go to a gym?"

"Not quite as satisfying."

"Can't say I don't understand. I like getting my hands dirty every now and again."

"So, what was so urgent? If it's about the warehouse incident where you, I and Abrego lost several men, I already know. The Chief called me already."

They were in a bar. Chang went behind the bar and put two glasses on it. He grabbed a bottle of vodka and poured two drinks.

"The news I have," Chang said, "I witnessed myself, in a way."

The two bosses toasted each other and had a sip of vodka.

"The Church If Violence is gone," Chang said.

Balalaika paused. She had another sip. "What do you mean? Destroyed?"

"No, gone," Chang said, "I went there earlier for a purchase. I had an appointment set up with Yolanda, the old nun that runs the business. The building itself is still there, but Yolanda, Eda, that young priest they had with them, all gone. Their inventory has disappeared. No trace of a gunfight. It's like they...vanished."

"That is most...troubling, to say the least," the Russian mob boss said.

"It's probably not a coincidence that all this is happening at the same time: the Punisher, those mystery soldiers and this."

"I agree," Balalaika said, finishing her drink.

"This situation is getting serious."

"There is one way to make sure we find them," Balalaika said.

"What is it?"

She told him.

Chang chuckled, "Simple and efficient. Guaranteed to work. But risky. Very risky."

"Chang, I've never known you to be afraid of a little gamble."

The boss of the Triad pulled out a cigarette, lit it and pulled a few drags before blowing out a cloud of smoke.

"I guess I'm getting more careful in my old age," Chang said, "But, you're right, this is worth the gamble. It'll take some time to make proper arrangements."

"But afterwards, one way or the other, all our problems will go away, once and for all."


	9. Chapter 9

**Lagoon Company Office**

**Later that afternoon**

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" Rock asked.

"I mean fuckin' gone, like nobody was ever fuckin' there!" Revy said.

Revy had been released from the hospital. She was mostly sore and somehow avoided a concussion. Dutch was still there for a couple days. He joked about needing the time off anyway.

"That's kinda weird," Benny said.

"It has to be related to Castle and everything else. It makes no sense that the Church Of Violence would just disappear like that," Rock said.

"Without a gunfight? Knowing Eda, no fuckin' way!" Revy said.

Eda was a "nun" in the Church Of Violence as well as a highly skilled shooter. Between her, the old nun, Yolanda, and the new kid, Rico, it was just...impossible that they would just pack up and leave without spilling buckets of blood and tons of brass.

Rock was also thinking that part of Revy felt betrayed because Eda was also a frequent drinking buddy, a friend to Revy.

Everything was going insane in the city...more insane than usual. It was disturbing. Everyone in this city believed things worked a certain way, that there were unspoken rules. A vigilante and a small group of covert soldiers were disregarding the rules. And there were ripples throughout the whole underworld.

"Benny," Rock heard Revy call out, "It's your turn to grab some take out!"

"What?" Benny protested, "It isn't-"

Something in Revy's eyes cut the protest short.

"Fine. Is Chinese good?" Benny said.

"Perfect!" Revy said.

"Shouldn't be long, I guess," Benny said, before stepping out.

Rock got up from his couch to go the fridge and grab something to drink.

"Revy," he said, "You want-"

Without really understanding how or when, Rock was spun around and his back was smashed on the fridge and he was staring into Revy's enraged face.

"Revy!"

"What the fuck is the fuckin' matter with you, you fuckin' stupid fuckhead!"

Rock was too startled to understand the reason for all this anger. What had he done this time?

"You could've gotten your dumb fuckin' ass killed! Standing up to the fuckin' Punisher? Are you outta your fuckin' mind? What the fuck are you tryin' to prove?"

A strange calm overcame Rock at that moment. He couldn't exactly understand why.

"I had to stop him, Revy. He was going to kill you and Dutch. I'm not tough or good with guns. I used my only weapon: words. Besides, by now, I've kinda gotten used to being held at gunpoint, shot at, even taken hostage and-"

"This was fuckin' different, you fuckin' moron! I wasn't...He could've..."

She let go and turned around. She took a few steps away.

"Right in front of The Punisher's fuckin' gun..." Revy said.

As brash and loud and vulgar and violent as Revy can be, Rock knew that she cared about her friends. She cared about him. She wasn't always good with words or feelings, but he's learned to understand her as time went by. They were different in many ways, Rock and Revy, but similar. They were outcasts from their respective places of birth. They were living in a city of outcasts. All they had was the crew from the Lagoon. That's all the family they had and they couldn't afford to lose each other.

"What if he had..."Revy said.

"It didn't happen, Revy."

"You know that if he had, I would have had to fuckin' avenge you, right? Go on a fuckin' revenge mission against a guy like that...A guy that fuckin' made a fuckin' career choice of revenge. Do you think of that sometimes? How your decisions actually have consequences on other people?"

There was a silence. Her back was still to him.

"Thanks, Revy."

"What the fuck-"

"Thanks. For being there for me, for saving my ass more times than I can count. Thanks for...everything."

Revy didn't answer.

"Besides. I owed you," Rock said, "For all those other times..."

"Fuck that shit, Rock," Revy said, turning around, "You wanna break even with me? Stop putting yourself in front of loaded guns and we'll be good, okay?"

"I think I can give it a try," Rock said.

There was a silence. Then Revy said: "Where the fuck's that nerd with the fuckin' food? I'm fuckin' starvin'!"

**SHIELD temporary HQ**

"Well, Castle," Fury said, "I gotta hand it to ya, those plans aren't half bad. I've seen worse in my years."

"Simple and direct," G.W. Bridge said.

"Still borderline suicide missions, though," Quartermain said.

"Like Colonel Fury stated earlier," Franklin Rhodes said, "Nobody said this would be like a quiet stroll on a beach."

"Ugly and nasty, that's the name of the game," said Rick Mason.

"Considering that we have a lot of equipment generously donated by The Church Of Violence before their hasty departure, it might be possible," Black Widow said.

Agent Kymberly Taylor said nothing.

The Punisher didn't know how Nick Fury got the Church Of Violence to simply leave without any sort of carnage. He didn't care. What mattered was the result. Weapons. Ammo. Explosives. All the inventory the Church Of Violence had. For free.

"First," Castle said, "We need Intel. We can't move without knowing what we're up against, what they're planning."

Fury gave a curt nod: "Mason, set everybody up with laser microphones. Set up near the targets' HQs or major operations. Don't get spotted. Don't get killed. Get to it. Except you, Romanova."

Rick Mason, the team's tech expert, said: "Yes, sir." Soon, they were all gone, except Fury, Castle and Widow.

Castle said: "I'm gonna try my own sources for information."

"Good," Fury said, "You do this well, working with others, considering."

"We have similar mission objectives," Castle said, "You and your people are pros. Might as well work together. Taylor..."

"Taylor doesn't like the idea of working with a vigilante," Fury said, "She has a law enforcement background. She's seen people take justice in their own hands and the horrible messes they make, sometimes. But she's a good soldier. She understands the rules are different in Black Ops."

"Fair enough," Castle said.

"Nobody has thought of asking before...But...Why now? Why Roanapur now?" Widow asked.

And Castle told them. The hit he did in New York. The stash of VHS tapes. The snuff movie involving children.

"My God..." Black Widow said.

"Yeah," Fury said, "That'll do it. That would have set me off too. Christ."

The Punisher said nothing. He tried to keep those images out of his head. He needed his mind clear. Focus on the job. Seek and punish.

"And you thought you could take this city by yourself," Fury asked.

"I had to try," Castle said.

There was a silence.

"There aren't that many ways to win battles like these," Castle said, "You go with everything you got. If you have to go down, take as many of the enemy as you can with you. I have nothing to lose. Someone had to take this city on."

"Turns out, somebody has, in a way," Fury said.

Fury then told him about a mission involving a Special Forces unit. Things got complicated for those guys.

"That was a king sized clusterfuck," Fury said, in conclusion, "This city...it's something else It's like some monster that swallows people up. I've been doing what I do for a while, now. Rarely seen anything like this."

There was a silence. Then, Black Widow spoke:

"It doesn't become too much of a burden, this war, to carry by yourself?"

"No," Castle said, "I chose to do this, I chose to do it this way. I don't think about it, I just do what needs to be done."

There was another silence. Widow had some sympathy in her eyes. And understanding. It occurred to Castle that he was in presence of people that understood what he was about, which was something that almost never happened in his current life.

"Okay. Back to work," Fury said, "Castle, you do you gotta do, Widow and I are gonna try to bring something more to this party."

Fury explained. Castle agreed and nodded.

And they got to work.


	10. Chapter 10

**Meanwhile, elsewhere in the city**

A convoy of six large armoured cars was heading towards a tenement building.

It was beginning, Chang was thinking while riding in the back of a bulletproof limousine. There were three other serious looking Asian men with him. Some smaller and bolder gangs were trying to move into some of the vacant turf. Soon, unless this Punisher situation was resolved, the city would descend into chaos. Only the foolish were trying to get a "piece of the action", like the cliché goes.

Some Vietnamese gang, a bunch of crack addicted trigger happy morons with more balls than brains. They were about to lose both.

Even though he was a boss, even though Biu, his right-hand man insisted he didn't come, Chang wanted to be part of this sanction. Like he'd told Balalaika, he didn't mind getting his hands dirty. Like the leader of Hotel Moscow herself, he figured that if he couldn't take on small time punks like these idiots, what chance would he have against a real opponent like Frank Castle. Biu was very concerned and he and Chang reached a compromise.

Frank Castle. The Punisher. A man seeking either justice or revenge. Or both. Justice. Chang could almost laugh. There had been a time, a lifetime ago, in Hong Kong, when Chang believed in such things. Right. Wrong. Justice. Life had since taught him different. When was the last time anything resembling justice or even fairness has ever taken place In Roanapur? The city was in a state of controlled insanity thanks to the big gangs. Not justice. This was about greed. Power. Chang had no illusions about what he was.

Whatever Castle's motivations were, he was serious threat and had to be eliminated. All in good time.

Biu was on a walkie-talkie. There was a look out checking out the Viets at their hang out reporting to Biu.

"Most of them are there, Big Brother," Biu said.

"Good," Chang said, "Very good. We won't have to make another trip to that dump. Have the men deployed like we discussed."

The convoy stopped. Men in dark suits, long trench coats and shades holding submachine guns poured out of the cars. Biu barked some orders in the walkie-talkie.

"All set," Biu said.

Chang said nothing. He stepped out of the car, pulled out a cigarette and put it in his mouth. Biu flicked open a Zippo lighter and lit it while another man handed Chang his work tools. A matched pair of AMT Hardballer pistols, chambered with .45 ACP bullets. Each pistol was fitted with an eight round magazine.

"All right," Chang said, "Let's remind these gentlemen of the unwritten rules of business in our fair city."

His men then went inside the four story building. Chang waited outside, pistols in his hands, in front of the main door. It was nice warm afternoon, slightly breezy. The streets were relatively deserted in the neighbourhood. Whoever had seen the two dozen heavily armed men come out of cars and storm the building had the presence of mind of staying out of sight.

Soon, it started. Gunfire. Pistols. Submachine guns. Shotguns. Glass breaking. Doors being kicked. Cusses. Screams. Chang didn't enjoy the bloodshed and carnage as much as Balalaika did, but he knew it was part of "the job" and he was good at it.

Gunshots and steps, coming closer. Chang got ready.

When six armed Viets come out of the door, smoking pistols in their hands, led by the gang leader, Tranh, as planned, Chang wasted no time.

He raised his .45s and fired a round in each of the leader's kneecaps. Tranh went down face first, yelling. The next two each took a slug in their foreheads. The back of their skulls exploded and the blood and brain matter, along with chunks of bone flew into the faces of the last three who still tried to aim at whoever had ambushed them. The blinded and panicked gang members each took a double tap to the chest and collapsed as heavy bullets tore through vital organs.

And that was that.

Tranh was still howling in pain, rolling around, trying to ease the unbearable pain coming from his shattered knees. Chang, smoking pistols still in hand, calmly walked over to the wounded man.

"Tranh. You know how things work, there are rules," Chang said in an almost friendly voice, "And you also know the consequences when you break those rules."

"Ah...Aah...Please, Boss Chang...,"Tranh pleaded.

"I'm afraid we're past the point of negotiation, Tranh."

Chang then put a bullet in each of Tranh's ankles. That didn't improve Tranh's disposition.

"I'm not sadistic, you understand," Chang said, "But others like you have to know not to try what you did and as you now know, pain-" Chang shot both of Tranh's shoulders "-or the fear of pain can be very dissuasive."

Chang let the man scream for another minute. He was sincere. Torture was not his thing. But sometimes, examples had to be made. Everyone in the neighbourhood, everyone within earshot had to understand, had to be reminded what it meant to mess with the powers of Roanapur.

When Chang could no longer stomach the screams, he shot Tranh in the forehead.

And soon, Chang and his men were back in their cars, driving away.

Seconds later, Chang had already forgotten about the piece of killing he'd just done and was thinking about Balalaika's plan to get Castle. Like he'd told her, he thought it was an enormous gamble, but it would definitely work. He would need more manpower and more guns, that could be arranged.

No matter what the cost, The Punisher would die in Roanapur.

**Two days later, night time, Roanapur**

Abrego, the leader of Colombian cartel in Roanapur, was about to meet some people in one of his businesses, a Latin disco bar. A group of stone cold killers. Mercenaries. Former military and secret police from various South American countries.

He'd called some people back home and these men came highly recommended. Expensive but ruthless. The sort of men needed to deal with someone like Frank Castle.

He was in a small convoy of armoured SUVs. Accompanied by over twenty men. He also asked the police to close off the street where the meeting was held and all the streets leading to it. He was not making the same chances others had before: underestimating the Punisher. He also knew it was a question of time before Chang and Balalaika called a meeting to try to find a permanent solution to the Punisher problem.

But, one thing at a time, first meeting these men and before even that, setting up a perimeter. After reaching destination, Abrego posted four men on the buildings roof. Four men at the back entrance. Four up front with the cars and the rest walked in with him to meet the crew of mercs.

Cortez. Tall, broad shouldered, closely cropped hair, stubble, hard features. The eyes of man who'd seen and caused much death. He was there with a half dozen men. They all had eyes like Cortez. And a military demeanour about them. These weren't ordinary thugs.

"Mister Abrego," Cortez said.

"Mister Cortez," Abrego said.

The two men shook. Abrego felt the man's strength and power.

"So, let's cut to the chase," Cortez said, "You need some people taken care of?"

"Yes."

"Who exactly?"

"The Punisher."

Cortez paused. If he was startled, he didn't show it.

"I see," Cortez said and almost smiled, "Is that all?"

"Possibly a small team of special forces soldiers," Abergo said, "We have no idea who they are yet."

"All right," Cortez said, "I will need-"

Cortez was interrupted because the vehicles up front have exploded. Burning hunks of metal, broken glass and fire blew through the bar's front glass window and four men standing too closely to the window were killed, torn to shreds by the shockwave and debris. Most of the others were either knocked down or had the instinct to duck. The blast had been deafening and everyone was dazed and choking on smoke as what used to be SUVs up front burned.

Dizzy and eyes full of tears, Abrego coughed as he got up. His right hand man called for the men on the roof with his walkie-talkie. No answer. The men at the back door. No answer.

"He's here," Abrego realized, meaning The Punisher.

Then, an odd sound, like a very loud buzz was heard and Abrego saw men being cut to pieces.

Machine gun fire.

Abrego got up, along with Cortez and several other men and jumped over the bar counter and stayed down. It was reinforced.

The buzzing didn't stop. More men were being slaughtered. Bullets were hitting the bulletproof counter like a mad hailstorm.

The air smelled of gasoline, blood and gunpowder. The metal storm was not stopping.

"Jesus Christ!" Abrego yelled.

Cortez ducked after risking a few blindly fired shots with his 9mm pistol.

"It's one man!" Cortez said, "One man with a goddamn Mini-Gun! We have to get the fuck out of here!"

"He took out my roof guards and my back door people!" Abrego said, "And maybe he has people waiting for us to cut us down!"

Three men had stood up from behind the bar to try to fire back and were killed instantly. Blood, brain and viscera flew all over as if shot by a fire hose. Abrego yelled when he received pieces of brain on himself.

"Anything has to be better than this!" Cortez screamed.

Then the shooting stopped. Just like that.

Cortez, Abrego and the last handful of survivors, stayed down for a second.

"He must think we're dead," Abrego said, "We should try to-"

Then they heard a noise like a hard object was thrown at them and landed among them. Then another. Then another.

Fragmentations grenades.

"Ah, Shit," Abrego said.

And those were his final words.

**Outside the bar**

Holding his General Electric 5,56 mm Mini-Gun, The Punisher walked away from the smashed bar window and the burning trucks.

Soon, he was joined by Fury, Bridge, Widow and Quartermain.

Fury and Quartermain had taken out the roof sentinels with suppressed rifles while Bridge nailed the trucks, along with the men guarding them, with LAW rockets.

Widow had taken out the four men guarding the back door.

Rhodes, Taylor and Mason had taken down, non lethally, the cops blocking the streets before all that and had taken their place with fake uniforms with the sleeping cops stashed in their patrol cars. They were watching the outer perimeter.

This operation had gone perfectly.

"All clear," Castle told his allies.

"Good work, people," Fury said.

"You too, boss," Quartermain said, "Pretty good shooting for a guy with one eye."

"Only need one eye on the scope, Clay," Bridge said.

"There's that," Quartermain said.

Fury ignored the banter and asked: "Any glitches?"

"None," Castle said, "The bulletproof bar withstood fire from the Mini-Gun, I had to use frags."

"I don't think I've been in a city with so many bulletproof bars," Widow said.

"That says something about the nightlife here, doesn't it?" Quartemain said, "Makes you think twice about ordering shots."

Bridge chuckled, and the laughed and so did Widow. Even Fury allowed himself a smile. He pulled out a cigar, lit it and pulled a few drags on it.

Castle knew that Quartermain's joke wasn't that funny. But it was just to release some tension. He'd seen it often in the Nam, in his previous life. Men trading weak jokes and stupid puns after surviving an ugly ambush or some other ugliness. It was the beginning of celebrating the fact that they were still alive, before getting drunk or something else.

And as Castle watched the SHIELD agents trade jokes, he felt something familiar tugging at the remains of his shredded soul. Camaraderie. Something he hadn't felt in a long time.

But soon, his mind went back to the war as they walked away from the kill zone. Sicilians were down. Colombians were down. That left the Triads and Hotel Moscow.

One way or the other, it would end with them.


	11. Chapter 11

**The next day, Lagoon company**

"And now, the fuckin' Columbians are gone too, huh?" Revy said.

Dutch, who had been released by the hospital the day before, answered, but after having lit a cigarette and blown out a cloud of smoke.

"Yup, that's the word on the street," the skipper of the Black Lagoon said, "Abrego's gone along with a couple dozen other guys."

"Wow," Benny said, "Never thought I'd see the day where the gangs were in danger, as in all of them."

"This city always bounces back, Benny Boy," Dutch said, "This latest series of incidents is like a nasty hurricane. Shit gets knocked down and then rebuilt again. There's no changing that."

"Biggest action this city's seen in a while and I'm fuckin' sitting here on the fuckin' sidelines," Revy said.

"Revy," Rock said, "You've actually exchanged shots with the Punisher and were blown up with a grenade. How more involved do you wanna be? He almost killed you. Hell, he almost killed _all of us!_"

"I want a fuckin' rematch with that motherfucker!" Revy said, "And I want a fuckin' piece of this war!"

"Yeah, well Chang and Balalaika are all that's left of the big syndicates now," Dutch said, "It's their war, now. They either put an end to all this shit or..."

The skipper's voice trailed off.

"Or what, Dutch?" Rock asked.

"To tell you the truth, I don't know, Rock. I have no idea," Dutch said. He pulled another drag on his cigarette and blew out all the smoke. "We've seen some serious ugliness in this town. You've seen it too, Rock. We've seen psychos and terrorists blow through here and cause all sorts of chaos and the city comes out almost intact. If it changes this time...I don't know."

"Well," Benny said, "There is some sort of precedent for stuff like this. When you look at the fall of the Berlin Wall or other strict political regimes or dictatorships. There's always a period of disorder, sometimes violence..."

"Here, without the Triads or Hotel Moscow, the fucking gangs will start popping each other on the streets. This city will become fuckin' Beirut," Revy said.

"Exactly," Benny said, "So far, those who made such attempts have been squashed, but that can't last. And in that kind of context, where does that leave us, as a business?"

"Even in times of utter chaos, people and goods need to be moved," Dutch said, "There's always gonna be work. I just don't like the idea of every street corner turning into OK Coral. Even in this city, there's always some measure of...civility."

"Well, any fuckin' way," Revy said, "I'm tired of this wait and see bullshit! You'd figure Chang or Balalaika would call on us or somethin'!"

"Revy," Rock said, "The way I see it, Chang and Balalaika are probably preparing something huge to trap Castle and whoever those mystery soldiers are. They have to be planning some sort of strategy to put an end to that threat. And like any good operation, it relies on secrecy. It wouldn't surprise if they joined forces for this. They can't afford any leaks. They probably will rely only on their own people this time. No freelances."

"And, knowing Balalaika," Dutch said, "She's probably lookin' forward to tangling with the Punisher. That woman enjoys war a little bit too much."

"Maybe it's just that she doesn't know anything else, Dutch," Rock said, "Nothing else but bloodshed and horror."

"What the fuck would you know about that, huh, Rock?" Revy said.

"In my time here, I've seen more than enough, Revy," Rock said quietly.

"Then maybe you should go back to Japan, back to being a fucking zombie, a fucking slave for rich fuckers who couldn't give a fuck about you!" Revy said.

"Revy..."

"When are you gonna get it through your thick fuckin' skull, Rock? There is no right and wrong, no justice, none of that fairy tale bullshit. No heaven, no hell, no God, no fuckin' satan. There's life and death. You're either a fuckin' predator or you're fuckin' cattle! And if you don't fight for your life, if no one if willing to take your life, maybe that means your life is fuckin' meaningless and you might as well be dead. And people keep talking about war like it's some shitty thing. How many gunfights have we been through? Doesn't every meal, every cigarette, every drink taste sweeter knowin' it might be your last? Knowin' that while you're there drinkin', some other asshole is feeding maggots because he was just too fuckin' slow?"

There was a silence. Revy pulled out a cigarette, lit it and pulled on it.

"And you make it, you make to the top of the fuckin' heap, sometimes you wonder: am I really it? Am I really that bad-ass or is everyone else really a bunch of fuckin' pussies. Then you run into some serious motherfucker. A real stone cold killer and you have to ask yourself: could I take that fucker? Because the only way to stay at the top is to be tested by people on your level. Balalaika, and even Chang, they enjoy being tested. They like proving to themselves that they actually earned their spots at the top, so they welcome a fucking challenge who isn't from some brain dead cocksucker trying to make a name for himself."

"And you too, Revy?" Rock asked.

"Fuckin' right, me too, and you too, Rock!"

"Me?" Rock said.

"Yeah, you too! You came this close to actually killing Frank Castle! You might not be a fucking hitman, but you like other types of challenges! Yeah, you wanna outsmart a guy who spent years outsmarting everyone else, admit it! I saw you smile while you elaborated that plan! Castle doesn't have a lot of weaknesses and you figured them out! You changed, Rock, during your stay here. You're a predator, like the rest of us. Just a different kind. Remember what Chang called you in the hospital? 'Magnificent Bastard.' Chang doesn't throw that kind of shit out lightly, Rock."

"Revy's got a point, Rock," Dutch said.

Rock thought of Revy's words. He knew that they rang true, at least in part. What was he becoming?

There was a silence right after Revy's onslaught.

"I'm gonna go head out for a drink," she said and walked out.

"Don't take it personal, Rock," Benny said, "You know how she gets when she doesn't get to kill anyone for a while. Worse than nicotine withdrawal."

"Yeah," Rock said simply.

Rock got to catch up with Revy.

"Sure it's a good idea, Rock?" Benny asked.

"Like she said," Rock answered, "What's your life worth if you don't risk now and again, right?"

Rock stepped out.

Dutch let out a grunt of pain.

"You okay, boss?"

"My stitches are hurting a bit, but it beats being dead, Benny Boy."

There was a silence.

"I mean what I said before, Benny Boy. If somehow Castle wins this thing? I have no idea what's gonna happen to this city."

**In the street, several yards away**

"Back the fuck off, Rock, I need to be alone," Rock said.

"No, you don't," Rock said, "Usually, you'd go to the Church and hang with Eda."

Revy looked over at Rock, and smiled.

"Christ, Rock, you're too fuckin' smart for your own good."

"Let's see if I am that smart: Eda, your friend, is gone without a word of explanation. Balalaika, who you call "big sis" and look up to, is not calling you to be part of her plan. And that probably brings up ugly memories from your past, being abandoned or left out. You blame the Punisher for that, hence another reason why you wanna get another shot at him, besides what you said earlier about being tested."

Revy scowled at Rock and then let out a breath. And smiled.

"Ok, smart ass, ya got me," Revy said.

"I feel your pain, Revy, my bosses tried to get me killed, remember? Feels like a lifetime ago."

"It was, Rock. For you, it was. Fuck, maybe for me too."

They let those words hang between them for a few seconds. Then:

"Hey," Rock said, "How about you let me buy you that drink? I mean that's what comrades in arms do, right?"

"Sure, why the fuck not?"

Rock smiled. So did Revy and they kept on walking.


	12. Chapter 12

**Later, during the evening, SHIELD temporary HQ, hangar outside of Roanapur**

"You're fuckin' kidding me," Fury told Castle, talking around his cigar.

"No. I'm not," Castle said.

The rest of Fury's team, experienced field agents all of them, were just dumbfounded.

Fury took the piece of paper from Castle's hands.

"Read it again, Boss," Quartermain said, "I have to hear it again to believe it."

"I have to write this down somewhere," Rick Mason said.

"Just when you think you heard it all," Widow said.

"Only in Roanapur," Bridge said.

"Here it goes," Fury said, "It says: 'Dear Mr. Castle, you are cordially invited to finish your business at Hotel Moscow manor. Dress casually. Invite as many friends as you want, there will be enough party favors for everyone. No need to call in advance, we will be ready for you any day, at anytime. We are looking forward to meeting you.' It's signed, 'Your hosts, Ms. Balalaika and Mr. Chang.'"

"As a cop, I've heard of some sickos who enjoyed taunting their victims or law enforcement," Kymebrly Taylor, the red-head said, "But an invitation?"

"That pathetic excuse for a police chief had it on him when I went to talk to him," Castle said, "Cowardly piece of shit like that, they figured we'd use him as much as they would."

"That is...unusual," Franklin Rhodes said, "Forgive me for stating the obvious: it's a trap, isn't it?"

"Using themselves as bait," Castle said, "That's not unheard of."

"Gotta hand it to them: they're doin' it with style, though," Quartermain said, "And we've been monitoring their communications. They've been extra careful. We have no idea what kind of forces they have on their side."

"We have to assume the worst," Castle said, "Hundreds of heavily armed men. Heavy machine guns. Anti-aircraft. They'll be ready."

"So, what do we do?" Bridge asked.

"You do what you want," Castle said, "I'm going."

"Now, I get it," Quartermain said.

"What do you mean," Fury asked.

"You always hear about how the Punisher is this nutcase, and I thought that it was something people said because of all the killing. But most of us here have blood on our hands. I couldn't imagine why people thought you were so crazy. Now, I know. It's because taking on a heavily armed fortress _by yourself_ seems like a rational idea."

"I came here to punish those fucks. I'm not leaving until that's done," Castle said, "I'll do it with or without you."

"That simple, huh?" Quartermain asked.

"Yeah," Castle said.

"Well, I don't mind difficult odds, but this is just absurd," Quartermain said.

"I have to agree with Goldilocks," Bridge said.

"Goldilocks. That's rich coming from the guy named after a piece of infrastructure, George Washington Bridge," Quartermain said.

"This makes no sense, it's suicide, Castle," Bridge said.

"Then, they've won," Rhodes said.

All eyes turned towards the muscular black agent.

"How do you figure?" Taylor said.

"Those bastards," Rhodes said, "They are counting on one of two things: us giving up or us trying and getting killed. They are sitting on their power and their guns and they laugh at us. At the law. At Interpol. They think they're untouchable. Invincible. We have a chance to wipe their arrogant smirks clean off their faces. We have a chance to make a point."

"That sounds good as a locker room speech in a sports movie," Mason said," But how the hell are we supposed to do that? Balalaika has hundreds of former Spetsnaz and Chang has all of his goons. We are ridiculously outnumbered and outgunned."

"So were the Viet-Cong," Castle said.

That cooled the room. Fury, who hadn't said a word during the debate, blew out a cloud of smoke. He observed silently. He exchanged looks with Widow.

And with that, he started packing his gear. "My mind is made up," he said, "I'm going there. I'll finish what I started."

"I'll go with you," Rhodes said.

"Jesus Christ," Quartermain said.

"Me too," Taylor said.

All eyes turned to her.

"Why?" Bridge said, "You haven't trusted him since we started this thing."

"I've been a cop a long while before SHIELD," she said, "I don't like the idea of a vigilante. I thought my eyes were open as a cop. I was wrong. Sometimes, we have to step over some lines."

"We're all Black Ops, here," Bridge said, "But-"

"I believe The Punisher will fight this to win," Taylor said, "He will have a plan and he will actually succeed, somehow. He will cripple this enemy if not destroy it, because this is what he does. Facing long odds. And like Rhodes said, we can't let them win."

Fury blew out another cloud of smoke. He looked over at Widow. She gave a slight nod.

"I agree with Taylor," Fury said, "And Castle. We all knew what kind of job this would be. We knew it might come to this."

"Nick, you can't be serious," Bridge said.

"He is," Widow said, "And I agree. I've seen Castle work before. I'm sure he has a way in. Something unexpected. And we might actually have a chance at this."

"Bridge, Rick, are we the only sane people in the room?" Quartermain asked.

"Well," Mason said, "I am curious..."

"For Christ's sakes!" Bridge said.

"It's okay, Bridge," Quartermain said, "We can listen, see how they plan on getting killed."

Fury looked around and then looked at Castle.

"So, Frank," he said, then blew out a cloud of smoke, "What did ya have in mind?"

The Punisher looked at his allies for the past days. He rarely liked working with others as the Punisher. He worked alone. But these were pros. Hardcore operatives all of them. He wouldn't ask for their help but he had to admit to himself, it would be easier with them.

Then he spoke and exposed his plan.

**Hotel Moscow Headquarters**

Balalaika looked outside her office window.

Five hundred men. Armed with assault rifles. RPGs. The combined manpower of Hotel Moscow and the Triads. Russian and Chinese together.

Armoured vehicles equipped with .50 calibre machine guns.

Six tanks. Ten year old Black Eagle tanks, equipped with 125 mm guns, 12. 7 mm machine guns (similar to the .50 cal) and 7,62mm machine guns, like the AK-47.

Machine gun posts. Sandbags.

The manor looked like it was ready for a siege.

Sitting in a leather chair in front of her desk was Chang, smoking a cigarette. In a suit, tie, a white scarf, wearing his sunglasses as always.

"Well, we put the meat in the water, let's see if the sharks come," Chang said.

Balalaika turned towards Chang. She also saw her number two, Boris and Changs number Two, Biu, standing in opposite corners of the office. They each had rifles slung over shoulders. Boris had two. She was wearing her army uniform.

"I don't know about our mystery guests, Chang," she said, "But Frank Castle will come. He can't turn away a challenge like this one."

"You seem sure about that," Chang said, "What if all this was for nothing and he realizes he can't win this."

"Chang," Balalaika said, "In Afghanistan, I've fought the Mujahedeen for years as a member of the invincible Soviet Army. I've seen starving combatants, suicide bombers, eyes filled with nothing but hate and death, sometimes madness. Those raggedy men beat us. You cannot underestimate the resolve of a warrior with nothing to lose. Frank Castle is not some macho, greedy thug who wants our turf. He has dedicated his life to the extermination of people like you and I. It would be reasonable for him to turn away. But I am certain that whatever drives him, it's not reason."

Chang blew out a cloud of smoke.

"Yeah, everything I read about him points in that direction as well," Chang said, "But he has to know, he can't win this."

"We've had to deal with such individuals before, Chang...Remember?"

"Oh, yes, I remember those incidents."

"Frank Castle will come. He will bring war to our doorstep and we must be ready."

"It's almost like you want him to come," Chang said.

"Well, we put so much effort into this, it would be a shame if he didn't. I admit, the thought of facing a worthy adversary appeals to me as well."

The leader of Hotel Moscow pulled out a cigar, lit it and put it her mouth.

"And of course, the idea of playing a part in killing the Punisher is the main reason for all this."

"On that we agree," Chang said.

"Yes, we do," Balalaika said, blowing out a cloud of smoke.


	13. Chapter 13

**Two weeks later**

**Hotel Moscow HQ**

**Night time**

"Captain," Boris told Balalaika.

"What is it, Sergeant?"

"We have an incoming plane, heading this way."

"Really?"

From her office, she looked outside with binoculars. The Sergeant was right. What seemed like an old Lockheed C-130 was coming towards her position. She couldn't see who was inside, but there wasn't much doubt on who it could be.

She couldn't help but smile before whispering: "Welcome home, Mister Castle."

"I beg your pardon, Captain?"

"Sergeant, get our people ready. Our guests are here," Balalaika said.

Soon, Chang walked in the office. Looking like he always looked. Expensive suit, sunglasses, white scarf. Balalaika wondered if he ever dressed down.

"They're here," Chang said simply, before pulling out his twin AMT Hardballers.

"Yes," Balalaika said, "Let's greet them accordingly."

* * *

**From where he was, Frank Castle could see the impressive display of firepower put out by Hotel Moscow and the Triads.**

Cannons. Tanks. Hundreds of heavily armed men.

Castle expected as much. Everything he knew about Balalaika and Chang taught him that they didn't climb to the top by being complacent. This was never gonna be easy.

Against those odds, Castle knew that he might not walk away from this shit-hole city. But he sure as hell was gonna take as many of those bastards with him as possible.

As always, he was calm, at peace. It was time.

Hands on the joy stick, he took the Lockheed on a descent towards Hotel Moscow's manor/HQ. Increasing the plane's speed.

* * *

**From her office, Balalaika and Chang were watching the Lockheed coming in closer and closer.**

"What is he doing," Chang asked.

"The only thing he knows, Chang," Balalaika said, "Waging war."

"This is his big move? A Kamikaze attack? This is suicide!"

"Then let's oblige him."

The boss of the Russian Mob then grabbed her walkie-talkie and said:

"Take her down."

* * *

**Heavy machine guns and Tank guns began thundering through the night.**

Castle did what he could to avoid to worst of it. The large craft took hits. 12, 7 mm rounds peppered the plane. Some of the 125 mm shells connected.

Castle held. Took her downwards. Accelerating. Getting near the bird's top speed. Almost 360 miles per hours.

A shell took one engine. The one on the right. The left wing was gone altogether.

But there was no slowing down the Lockheed. 100 000 pounds of metal was coming in at them as fast as a race car.

Flashing lights. Beeps. Instruments going haywire, screaming out the damage the plane was taking. Castle shut it all out. He was taking the flaming hulk down faster and faster.

It would soon be over.

**Even Chang had to be impressed**. The usually unflappable Triad Boss kept his cool in nearly all situations. But the sight of all that weaponry, the sounds of absolute war, that burning pile of junk coming down was enough to give him pause. Especially a very obvious realisation:

"He's not pulling up," Chang said, "It's like he's _aiming_ the plane at our people."

"You called it, Chang," Balalaika said, "Seems like some sort of Kamikaze attack. Desperate move from a desperate man."

"It's going to crash a few hundred feet from the line of tanks and guns," Chang said, "There's no hope for whoever is in there, I don't care how skilled they are."

Indeed, with cataclysmic noise, the plane hit the ground, its considerable momentum still taking it towards the weapons and vehicles. The manor was shaking between the crash and the guns, it sounded-and looked-like Hell on Earth.

Chang caught a glimpse at Balalaika. He could have sworn he caught a _smile._ He stopped being surprised at her reactions. He knew that this is what she lived for. To test herself against true warriors. And The Punisher was it. This attack was not brilliant at all. It was stupid and hopeless. But it showed his resolve and fearlessness and the boss of the Russian Mafia respected that.

And of course, there was the whole reason for this: killing the Punisher. At least, being responsible for the vigilante's demise as Castle seemed intent on killing himself.

The plane was still skidding right into machine gun and tank gun fire.

Chang glanced at Balalaika. Her smile was gone. And for a second there was something in her eyes. Not fear, but something, like she understood something too late.

What could it be?

* * *

**The Punisher let go of the joystick. It was useless. The Lockheed was still coming the trucks and tanks.**

He pulled out a small remote from one of his pouches.

This was it. He pushed a button.

* * *

"**Get away from the windows!" Balalaika told Chang, Boris and Biu, who had joined them a minute before.**

They started running away from their post.

"Find cover!" She yelled.

"What the hell-" Chang said.

"Fall back!" Balalaika yelled in the radio, "All tanks and vehicles, cease fire and fall b-"

And the world turned white.

* * *

**From inside the Lockheed, 1000 pounds of C-4 explosives and 20 barrels of Diesel fuel were detonated.**

Ground zero was the apocalypse.

Tanks were overturned, trucks were blown apart and flew away, like toys kicked by a giant angry child. Anything that wasn't disintegrated of knocked away by the blast was melted or distorted by the heat generated by that massive explosion.

Hundreds of white hot chunks of metal-cars, trucks, tanks- were thrown all over, like ball bearings from an impossibly large Claymore mine.

Then, there was nothing but silence and smoking wreckage.

* * *

**Yellow Flag**

**Roanapur**

Even with the loud music, the angry shouts of drunken tough guys trying to out-tough each other, there was no doubt for the Lagoon company, enjoying some drinks, spending money made on an easy delivery:

"You feel that?" Revy asked.

"Felt like...a stampede of angry hippos," Benny said.

"More like a small earthquake," Rock said.

"That's probably more likely," Benny said.

"I'm hearin' thunder," Dutch said.

"There's no fuckin' thunder, boss," Revy said.

"I know," Dutch said and he got up and stepped outside.

A small crowd had gathered outside on the sidewalks.

"What the fuck?" Revy asked.

"World War Three!" A random man said. He looked like a middle aged white man. American from the sound of accent.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Revy asked.

"Guns and explosions," the man said, "Lots of guns and explosions, then some tremors...I've heard noises like that back in Nam. Somebody's getting fucked up big time. More than usual. Than a big blast, like a big fuckin' bomb, I felt it, man, and I recognized it."

"Could you tell where it came from?" Dutch asked, hopeful.

"Not sure, but, from there maybe..."the man pointed.

"Hotel Moscow..."Rock said.

His Lagoon comrades looked at him.

"This is it," Rock said, "This is Castle making his move. Has to be."

"That's fuckin' stupid!" Revy said," How the fuck does he expect to survive this shit! He can't fuckin' think he can win, can he?"

"We felt the blast all the way from here, Revy," Rock said, "I don't think he cares if he survives or not as long as he takes his enemies with him."

"Dutch?" Revy said "You believe this shit? What the fuck is goin' on?"

"I don't know, Revy," Dutch said, "I have no goddamn idea."


	14. Chapter 14

**Hotel Moscow HQ**

Pain.

It was the first thing Chang felt. A headache. Like very bad hangover. It was the best headache Chang has ever had, because it mean a very important thing. He was still alive. Somehow.

"Glad you're awake, Chang," Balalaika said, "Hope you're well rested from your nap, we have work to do."

The boss of the Triads got up, dusted himself off. He remembered the plane coming down, the blast. He looked out the nearest shattered window.

He took a second to absorb what he was seeing.

Not very far from the manor, where the tanks and other vehicles were, there was a crater. About 40 feet wide, maybe 20 feet deep. And chunks of smoking metal everywhere. Which meant there were explosives on the plan. Lots of explosives. And that most of the men posted outside were dead. Nearly 500 men. Dead or crippled, at the very least.

"We're not done yet, Chang," Balalaika said.

"Whoever built this house deserves a big reward," Chang said, "I'm surprised I'm not crushed by tons of rubble."

"This house was prepared for a situation like this. It could withstand an air strike," Balalaika said, "Come on, we must be ready, they will be coming."

"Who? Whoever was on that plane is long dead," Chang said.

"Don't be a fool, Chang, this was obviously a diversion."

"Why do you say that?"

"They gave their lives to draw our men's fire. They sacrificed everything, just like our men did. But it was only the first step."

"What do you mean?"

"We are the targets, Chang, you and I and we are still alive. They will come for us. We still have about twenty men alive in this house. We have to make sure our comrades did not die in vain."

"You don't think Castle is working alone. You think he's working that mysterious group? Or that he brought in allies."

"We must be prepared for those possibilities. We must be prepared for anything."

"That makes sense, Ms. Balalaika. We should-"

"Wait. Quiet," Balalaika said.

There was a sound. Like-

"Engines. Trucks," Chang said, "Someone is-"

And soon, the estate was rocked with explosions.

"Looks like you were right, Fryface," Chang said, "They weren't done."

"Neither are we."

* * *

**Three black Humvees were approaching the Hotel Moscow house**. On their roofs, each of them had a modified MK-10 40 mm machine gun loaded with a mix of high explosive and armour piercing rounds.

In the leading Humvee were Nick Fury and G.W. Bridge. In the other ones, Black Widow and Clay Quartermain, Rhodes, Taylor and Rick Mason.

Each member of the team was wearing a headset.

"Move with a purpose, people," Fury said, "Hit'em hard and hit'em fast!"

"Wow! Castle did a number on these guys, did he?" Quartermain said, "Never thought this insane idea of his would work!"

"We're not done yet, Clay!" Bridge said.

"How is that house still standing?" Black Widow asked.

"It's like everything else in this town, ridiculously tough," Mason said.

"Cut the chatter and get to work!" Fury said, "Put some rounds into those shattered windows, come on! Make Castle's shot count!"

At many of the manor's windows, a man with an assault rifle or a mounted machine gun was posted, sending large burst of automatic fire down at the vehicles. The armour held, taking the abuse. The vehicles were ordered just a few days prior to a weapons manufacturer, the one SHIELD usually dealt with. That guy was particularly good with sturdy armour, built to take on the stark reality of war. They were sent, no questions asked. That, along with other tech used in this op.

Bridge was handling the MK-19 while Fury was driving. Bridge was inside, using a joystick and a computer screen to aim. Small cameras were connected to the launchers. It was like one of those goddamn video games kids had these days, but at least it kept the gunners safe.

The beautiful estate looked like a nightmare of fire and metal and it wasn't getting any better. Muzzle flashes were lighting up the place lighting up the place like fuckin' Christmas lights. Grenades were hitting the house's walls and blowing men to smithereens. The house, like Mason implied, was built or reinforced to take a beating. Good, because it was fucking taking one. But what would come next-

"RPGs!" Mason shouted.

The Rocket Propelled Grenades came out of several windows at once. The Humvees were fast. Easy to drive.

"Zig-zag!" Fury said, "Don't give those fuckers an easy target!"

The ground opened up near the upcoming armoured vehicles, the explosive projectiles blowing small craters in the ground. RPGs were not very accurate against fast moving objectives. The bad guys would need skill and luck to hit them.

One of the bad guys had both.

"We took a hit!" Mason said, "Flipping over!"

And the Humvee containing Mason, Rhodes and Taylor flipped over six times. Fury knew that the reinforced frame could resist the abuse, but his three operatives were still vulnerable. Fuckin' sitting ducks actually.

* * *

"**I have a hit," Boris said, putting down the grenade launcher.**

"Well done, Sergeant," Balalaika said, laying down fire with an AK-47 on the overturned vehicle, trying to find a chink in the armour.

Balalaika was proud of her soldiers. Especially the fallen ones who had given their lives to protect their captain. Part of her was grieving, but she was also at peace. This is what she was trained for. Born for. Total war against worthy enemies. Not thugs out for greed, but soldiers acting out of a sense of duty, a true purpose.

Chang and his men were not as skilled as her own, but they were also fiercely loyal and unafraid. No panic.

She watched Chang handle his own AK-47. Not the sleek black submachine guns he was used to, but he was still very good with it.

She looked at the enemy. They are risking their lives for their comrades. One vehicle going to reach the other to help the ones trapped in the overturned one. No one left behind. The other providing cover fire. More explosions rocked the once stately manor. More dead comrades. Only a handful of grunts left. Maybe twenty, but enough-

She heard a rumble. Despite the sounds of war, she felt vibrations in the ground.

"What is that?" Chang said, confirming it.

The one called Biu ceased fire as well: "It feels like...an engine?"

"The Humvees are retreating! Very fast!" One of the Hotel Moscow soldiers shouted.

"This engine is closing in from-" Balalaika started, "All men converge towards the back," she said into her radio, running towards the back her herself.

"It sounds like a-" Chang started.

Then an eighteen wheel semi-trailer truck smashed through the wall, running over a few men while bursting in.

All rifles concentrated fire on the truck. It must have been reinforced as well, because none of the rounds caused any damage. The tires were bullet-proofed and protected with some armour plates as well. So were the windshield and side windows and the gas tanks.

But why a truck? Why not an assault vehicle?

And who was driving? Who was leaping in the lion's den?

* * *

**Frank Castle was at the wheel of the truck.**

Flight simulator technology combined with high powered transmitter allowed him to fly a remote controlled plane almost to the gangsters' doorstep. And use it as a missile. Thanks to tech wiz Rick Mason and whoever Fury's contact with the armoured Humvees was.

Sometimes, allies were practical, The Punisher thought.

The truck was taking a pounding, but was holding on. So was the trailer.

All it would take was for one of these fuckers to get lucky with an RPG.

Castle pulled out a small remote, not unlike the one he had earlier. He pushed a button.

Very small charges were set off and the trailer was separated from the tractor.

Frank Castle gunned it, several tons lighter. He honked the horn and turned his brightest headlights, to disorient anyone trying to get a bead on him. An RPG barely missed him exploded somewhere on his right. Hundreds of bullets were hitting the tractor, a mad hailstorm of lead seeking a weakness, finding none. The Punisher then drove the truck through the other side of the house, out front.

He needed to get clear fast. He put his thumb on the second button.

* * *

**Chang looked at the seemingly abandoned trailer.** Then he dropped his weapon, pulled out two cigarettes, lit them and pulled a long drag.

The remaining men had their guns trained the trailer. But Chang knew. It was useless to shoot or to run. Or maybe he didn't care enough to try.

Balalaika also knew. Chang handed her a cigarette. They exchanged knowing looks.

Chang chuckled: "It was a good plan, Fryface."

Balalaika answered: "I know."

She pulled a drag on the cigarette. She took out a flask. Vodka. She took a swig. And handed it to Chang.

"This city," Chang said, "Think it will change?"

"Who knows?" Balalaika said, "It's not our problem anymore." She sighed. Chang thought she looked tired. Eager to rest.

She raised her flask. And spoke louder.

"Thank you all for your courage and honour. We have earned out place in Valhalla."

"It's been an honour, Captain", Boris said.

"Likewise, Sergeant," Balalaika said.

"Big Brother Chang-",Biu started.

"It's all right, Biu," Chang said with a smile, "I know."

All the men, Russian and Chinese, saluted.

* * *

**When Castle felt he was far enough, he pushed the button.**

10, 000 pounds of ammonium nitrate fertilizer, nitro methane and diesel fuel mixture were detonated.

The same recipe used by the Oklahoma City bombers just a couple years before. But twice the size. Just to be absolutely sure.

The Hotel Moscow house exploded. The wall and roof were blown upwards and sideways. The blast was beyond devastating. The truck shook. The ground shook. It was like being near the epicentre of the Big One.

"Castle!" he heard Fury's voice in his ear.

"I'm here, Fury," Castle answered.

"Jesus, we felt all the way here! You okay?"

"I'm alive," Castle said.

"Good enough," Fury said, "Our part of the job is over and done with. We get to go home."

"Yeah," Castle said simply.

Castle knew what Fury meant by their part of the job being over: he'd been talking with Thai authorities. Soon, a special detachment of the Royal Thai Police backed up by the Royal That Commandoes would take over policing in Roanapur, clearing out that corrupt sack of shit of a police chief. Now that a lot of the dirty work had been done, maybe something resembling law and order could come back to this city.

Maybe.


	15. Chapter 15

**EPILOGUE**

**Lagoon Company Offices**

**The next day**

It took a lot to impress anyone who has lived in Roanapur for a long time.

Last night's explosions were enough to give even the most jaded Roanapur citizen pause. The second big one must have been felt 100 miles away.

More importantly, it was what the blasts meant. The end of Hotel Moscow. The triads as well. Chang and Balalaika dead. Also, military vehicles rolling in the streets. Gunfights. It seemed like the government finally decided to do something about Roanapur and was mopping up the small gangs. The police and army were reclaiming the city after decades of turning the other way. The Chief would probably be replaced by a real cop who actually cared about enforcing the law.

Rock was watching his comrades. The mood was sombre. Almost like a wake. Revy was taking it the hardest. She looked up to both Chang and Balalaika. She confided in Eda. And they were all gone, one way or the other. These events also shook her outlook on things. Everyone was at a loss for words. Finally, Rock spoke up:

"So, what now?"

They were all smoking. Dutch pulled a long drag on his cigarette, blew out a cloud of smoke.

"That's the question, ain't it?" Dutch said. "A lawless Roanapur was good for us. This shit goin' down right now, I don't know."

"All of our clients were into illegal stuff, all of them, and most of them must be either dead, on the way to being dead or locked up," Benny said, "Hell, the cops might even be coming after us next."

"Revy?" Rock asked.

"I don't fuckin' know, Rock," she said, "I have no fuckin' clue what to do now."

"Well," Rock said, "What does a company do when business is no good where it is currently set up? It moves."

"We just pack up and leave, huh? Like that?" Dutch said.

"Like that, Dutch," Rock said. "This town is a city for fugitives, the exiled and the desperate. Nomads. It was, anyway. We just set up shop, elsewhere."

"Where the fuck are we gonna go, Smart-ass?" Revy said, "Where the fuck are we gonna travel to where our past, our records are not gonna catch up with us?"

"The last couple of weeks," Rock said, "I've given it some thought. Let's face it: when I showed up here, you all thought I was some wide-eyed idealist, some naive idiot who didn't know anything about how the real world works. You were right. But, in a way, you guys were idealists too. You thought this day would never come. You never thought that someone would challenge the powers of Roanapur, even less win. I started to believe it too, until the Punisher showed up and whoever helped him. I wondered: what if he actually pulled it off? What then? We get the hell out of here, that's what. As to where, I have a few suggestions."

Dutch blew out another cloud of smoke. And smiled. The others looked at him, sceptical.

"All right, Rock," Dutch said, "Show us what you got."

And he did.

**SHIELD temporary HQ**

**Hangar/Private air strip**

Fury and his people were packing up, getting ready to leave. Fury offered Castle a lift home and Castle accepted.

"An INTERPOL/SHIELD joint task force will oversee the whole process, see if it's possible to have some Law and Order going on in this place," Fury said.

"Yeah," Castle said.

"I ain't a fuckin' optimist, Castle, not by a long shot. I've lived too long, I've seen too much, I've done too much to believe in happy endings-"Fury said.

"Unless it's in those special massage places," Quartermain said.

Bridge smacked Quartermain behind the head.

Fury ignored all that and went on: "But as ugly as this was, we did some good work. This place is better off with all those fuckers dead. Maybe this place has a shot at being semi-decent. You take whatever victories you can, you know that. "

Castle said nothing.

"I'll just be happy to leave this damn place," Widow said.

"Amen to that," Mason said.

Soon, a Lear Jet appeared.

"Our ride is here," Rhodes said.

"Not a moment too soon," Taylor said.

Castle climbed aboard the plane. Soon, he would be in New York. The jungle he knew best. Work must have piled up there during his absence.

Fury was right. Whatever victories one could have, one took. This whole thing started in New York with snuff porn. Whoever had made these movies in the city had paid and would soon pay. It didn't help the kids in the movie. It didn't stop sick fucks from jerking off to it. But it was something.

The Punisher knew this was a hopeless war he was fighting. Sooner or later, he'd be too old, too slow and would run out of luck and catch a bullet. He was fine with that. But someone had to try. Someone had to try to wipe out the evil fucks bleeding decent people dry like leeches. Until his luck and life ran out, as long as he could hold a gun and shoot the right people, Franck Castle would continue doing what he did. Avenge the innocent. And Punish the guilty.

It would have to be enough.

**On board the Black Lagoon**

Bringing minimal luggage, the Lagoon company was ready to leave Roanapur. Along with some "friends". Sawyer, Shenhua and The Wizard. They were going to be gone for a long time.

Dutch took her out in the open sea.

Rock, sitting on deck, was taking in the warm, bright sun, lost in thought.

"Always daydreamin' huh, Rock?" Revy asked.

"You know me, Revy."

"I do."

And the boat was heading out, further away from the dock, Revy and Rock were silent for a while.

"You're thinkin' about it, are ya?" Revy asked.

"Thinking about what?" Rock asked.

"That fuckin' painting Chang showed us, the one we delivered him. With that Biblical bullshit."

"_The Destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah_," Rock said.

"Yeah."

"A little bit. City of sin, destroyed, few survivors going away. Roanapur isn't exactly destroyed, but..."

"I'm gonna miss that fuckin' shit-hole. We were...I dunno..."

"Free?"

"Yeah. Free. I'll fuckin' miss that."

"We might find that again, Revy."

"You better be right about that fuckin' place we're goin' to."

"I have a good hunch about it. You'll be up to your eyeballs in booze and violence, I'm sure."

"I fuckin' hope so."

She sat there, next to him, quietly for a while.

Meanwhile, Rock looked ahead. He didn't turn back. He wondered if it was because he was afraid of being turned into salt. Most likely, he wanted to forget the past and look to the future.

The next city. The next home of the Black Lagoon.

Madripoor.

**THE END. **

_**This is BLAKKSTONE. I would like to think everyone who has read and reviewed it. This was my modest attempt at crossing over two franchises I love, I hope you enjoyed it. If not, sorry, this was the best I could do.**_

_**One more thing: There will be one chapter left, a "deleted scene". I didn't include it in the story because I didn't want to spoil big Black Lagoon plot points for those who haven't read the books or watched the anime up to El Baile De La Muerte (or Roberta's Blood Trail.)**_


	16. Chapter 16

Clay Quartermain was driving the SUV towards the church. Nick Fury was riding shotgun. G.W. Bridge and Black Widow were in the back.

Rhodes and Taylor were in a moving truck behind them. Mason was in a moving truck behind that one.

They stopped once they reached the church.

Fury looked at his three agents.

"Ready?" He asked.

All nodded silently.

"Clay, get the briefcase," Fury said.

"Why me, Boss?" Clay asked, "Why not ask the others?"

"I can't ask Bridge to carry luggage, he'd bust my balls with a racial harassment thing. Widow's a lady, and I'm a gentleman. I'm the fuckin' boss, I don't carry my own luggage, that leaves you, handsome."

"Sure. I drive, I carry luggage. Next, I'll be pickin' cotton," Quartermain said.

Fury smiled. So did the others. Quartermain didn't give a shit about carrying the briefcase. Fury knew that. But he also knew Quartermain was using the banter to soothe his nerves. What they were planning to do could either work or turn into a full on gunfight.

"Ok. Let's do thing," Fury said.

Taylor, Mason, Rhodes got out their trucks and deployed around the church as was discussed earlier, armed with M-4 carbines fitted with 40 mm grenade launchers. Fury, Quartermain, Bridge and Widow went to the door.

Fury knocked.

The church door opened. A young white man, 20s, dark hair, opened. The young man eyed the four visitors with care. He saw that the visitors were armed, but that didn't change his cheerful disposition.

"Can I help you fine people," the young man asked.

Fury spoke.

"Ricardo, right? The young apprentice? We wish to speak to Sisters Yolanda and Eda, please."

Fury was looking right into Ricardo's eyes. Something registered in those eyes. But the young man didn't lose his smile.

"Of course," Ricardo said, "Come in."

The four SHIELD agents walked into the church. It was a typical Roman Catholic church. High arched ceilings. Wooden benches. A cross in front. Painted, coloured glass windows.

"I'll be back shortly, mister..." Ricardo said.

"Colonel. Fury."

That almost seemed to shake Ricardo's good mood and he turned away and walked briskly away.

"Moment of truth," Bridge said.

"Indeed," Widow said, "Shame if he we have to damage this place with gunfire."

"Have some faith, Widow, this is the place for that, isn't it?" Quartermain asked.

"Well put," Widow said.

Soon, Ricardo came back with two women. Two very different women, both dressed as nuns.

One was short, old and had an eye-patch, like Fury. Sister Yolanda. The other was tallish, much younger, blonde, had round pink sunglassed. Sister Eda.

Yolanda stood very still, straight. Eda tried to be cool as well, but Fury could sense that she was nervous.

The Church Of Violence or Rip-Off Church.

"Well," Sister Yolanda said, "Colonel Nick Fury of SHIELD. This no small event that you're here. No coincidence either considering recent events. And with you, Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow. You seem to be accompanied by two more agents, most likely senior agents as well."

Fury smiled. "Why senior?"

"For you to be here, Colonel, it must be serious. You would want experienced people next to you in here for this impromptu meeting."

"You are correct, Sister Yolanda," Fury said.

"Now that we are all acquainted, why don't you state your business," Yolanda said.

"Sure," Fury said, "It's really simple. The Church Of Violence is closed for business. You are to leave and hand over all of your inventory."

Yolanda paused, but he wrinkled face didn't change. Eda got a bit more agitated. Yolanda actually smiled before responding.

"I beg your pardon?" Yolanda said.

"You said it yourself, Sister Yolanda," Fury said, "Things are happening in this city. Things are gonna change. Big time. And we're asking you to leave."

"Fuck you, Fury," Eda said.

Fury said nothing. He expected this and let it play out. Eda went on.

"Who the fuck do you think you are walking in here, like John Fuckin' Wayne and asking us to just fuck off? You actually believe your own legend, Fury? You think everybody will just shit their pants because Fury and his fuckin' Howling Commandoes bark orders? Go fuck yourself, you arrogant motherfucker!"

Fury said nothing.

"Though I do not approve of such language in the house of God, I share Eda's sentiment," Yolanda said.

"Of course," Fury said, "That's understandable."

Fury took a deep breath and started walking. Slowly, deliberately, like a professor giving a lecture.

"Guns. Knives. Bombs. Martial arts, all pretty effective weapons," he started, "But none are worth shit-sorry, Sisters-without information. And, being a spy, information is my business. But you know all about that, do you, Eda?"

Eda stiffened. But she wasn't shocked. She probably expected this to happen.

"See, Eda, I know you're a CIA plant," Fury said, "I know that you've been undercover here for a while now. I also know that you've made deals with all sorts of shady characters like dope dealers and human traffickers and all other sorts of scum. But I also know something else. I also know about Grey Fox and The Bloodhound."

Eda inhaled sharply.

"Eda, you're a good agent, in the sense that you follow orders," Fury said, "And you were under orders to sabotage a military operation designed to bring down a major heroin dealer in the Golden Triangle. A top secret operation which was ordered by the NSA."

Eda was breathing hard Fury went on.

"Tell me if I'm wrong, Eda. Grey Fox, the unit that was supposed to take down that smack dealer had set up here In Roanapur. They were on the hunt. But they were also prey weren't they. Hunted down by one of the deadliest people on this planet, Roberta Cisneros. Cisneros, by no small miracle, gave up her violent ways and was taken in by this kind, rich man in Venezuela. But that guy, politically, was considered a problem, so Grey Fox had sanctioned him. She found out they were here and wanted revenge for her new master. Of course, even in this shithole, the death of American soldiers could mean trouble. So you cut deals with the scumbags that run this town to escort the soldiers to safety out of this city."

Fury paused and watch Eda slowly lose her composure. After a second, Fury continued.

"But it didn't stop there, did it? You gave up those soldiers to Cisneros. You gave her Intel that allowed her to hunt down and kill most of that Special Forces squad. Soldiers die all the time. It's part of the job. But you fuckin' sacrificed them. You handed them over to that psycho terrorist and in doing that, you fucked the NSA and the US military. That blew my mind when I learned that. But the NSA and the US military, they don't know the details, do they. As far as they know, the mission was a success and those brave boys died for-" Fury snorted and looked around-"God and Country. I don't think they would be too happy if they found out the details of this goatfuck, don't you agree?"

Eda was trembling with rage. Fury continued.

"But imagine a leak to the press? 'CIA helps terrorists kill American soldiers who were trying to stop a drug cartel'. Nasty headline, don't ya think?"

Eda was still overwhelmed with anger. Fry signalled to Quartermain who approached Eda with the briefcase. Fury spoke again.

"You asked if I expected you to leave because I asked ya. No. I didn't. But this little chat, I had it with your boss in Langley. My agent there will open a briefcase. There will be a scrambled, secure satellite phone. Your bosses' number is programmed. Your fuckin' boss is gonna ask you to leave."

Quartermain dialled the number and handed the phone over to Eda. She was pale and trembling and she took it. She spoke for a few seconds and hung up.

"So," Fury said, "Eda, was I right? Was that your boss? Did he just back my story?"

Eda swallowed hard and said, "Yes."

Fury looked at Yolanda, Eda and Ricardo.

"Now," Fury said, "Get the fuck outta here."

Slowly, the three people walked towards the door. It was a tense moment. It could have gone either way. But they left. Fury heard a car and a motorcycle go away. No gunfire.

"Well," Bridge said, "That was pleasant."

"Bridge, Clay," Fury said, "Get the others. Have Mason check the inventory for booby traps and have it loaded in the trucks."

As Bridge and Quartermain stepped out, Fury pulled out a cigar, chewed off the tip, put it in his mouth, lit it and took a few drags on it.

"Smoking in the house of God, Nick? A nice Irish Catholic boy like you?" Widow teased.

"You've been around this city, Widow. God left here a long time ago."

"This will not put you in good graces of the CIA."

"Fuck the CIA. We already hate each other anyway."

"You're angry about those soldiers, aren't you?"

"I've waged my share of wars, Widow. Soldiers die. It happens. But those boys were used as fuckin' pawns for political bullshit and then, fuckin' bargaining chips. Someone had to pay. Might as well be the bitch who set them up here. Caxton...he became a fuckin' wreck after this. So, yeah, I was pissed."

Fury blew out a cloud of smoke.

"Come on, let's load up some goodies," Fury said.


End file.
